


The 100: What Makes Us Human, Makes Us Weak

by lainathiel



Series: A Hundred Storms [1]
Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Major Original Character(s), Male-Female Friendship, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Old Friends, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Other, POV Original Character, POV Original Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-04-29 04:25:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 60
Words: 148,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5115677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lainathiel/pseuds/lainathiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her only crime - and what they locked her up for - was that she's a survivor. Then they sent her to the ground, and she realized she'd have to learn how to survive all over again because the ground has its own rules and none of them could have ever been prepared for all of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> An original character's story among the hundred. Very much not a damn Mary Sue. Follows s1 & s2 but will take its own course. OC/Bellamy, OC/Murphy, OC/others. Rated M for possible sex and violence later on. Better safe than sorry. [Will try my best to not make you re-watch the show as you read, but the first chapters kinda have to go on that. I'm sorry and ask for patience!]

I loved the ground.

So far nothing had tried to kill me, whereas on the Ark I'd been literally just sitting around waiting to get floated. The actual waiting was the worst, especially once the moment was getting nearer and nearer. I didn't really count on the Council revoking the decision; that happened pretty damn rarely, no matter what they tell you. Because why waste oxygen on someone expendable, especially when you have legal ground and laws to back you up, justifying it all?

So I was half-ready to float. The other half of me hoped silently that - somehow - I wouldn't, in spite of it all. Then they put me in that Drop-Ship and I only got to see my hectic parents through the crowd and I didn't even get to say proper goodbyes and then we were falling through the atmosphere about to blow up into countless pieces and thinking maybe, just maybe, floating was a better option than this. Everything was wrong, none of this was okay, we were gonna blow up for sure, I knew, my mind knew; and yet deep inside I hoped against hope, instinctively, despite myself, despite all reason and logic.

And then we were on the ground. Only two dead. Back then it wasn't ''only'' two, it was awful and terrible and terrifying and a kick in our guts the moment we got there. But death had followed since that moment, relentlessly. So only two.

And I loved the ground. It was like nothing I'd ever known, strange and foreign and almost scary, so much space, such a big world, so overwhelming. Everything was strange. The air, the smells, the view, the sounds, the feel of dirt and grass below my feet. And most of all, the freedom. 

My first days mostly consisted of marveling at my surroundings anyway.

It wasn't long until survival hit us. We had landed on the wrong mountain, our supplies were on Mount Weather. And I had to live, if I wanted my parents to live. I needed to stay beeping on their video screens if I wanted mom and dad to come down. I looked at my wristband, the one sole hope to those that loved me. I had to keep it safe.

So the ground was good so far. We'd have to hike a while, but we were alive. The bad side of it all was that I didn't really like anyone among the hundred that came down with me. Either didn't like or didn't know. There were some known to everyone for the stuff they did, and then there were kids I'd never seen before in my life. I had no friends among the delinquents. I used to be friends with one, but that was long ago, when he was different and I was different, and him more so than me.

Still, everyone knew Jaha's golden boy, that's for sure. The princess too. They were the privileged; they didn't belong. The Spacewalker was kind of known. The Last Siblings kind of had a killer story too, so there was that. I wasn't sure I liked any of them.

''We're on the wrong damn mountain,'' Clarke had announced. In a couple of minutes, a hiking party was formed. I was torn between wanting to go and wanting to stay in the remote safety of the Drop Ship. The ever indecisive, ever self-contradictory me.

But I stayed. It was Clarke, the Spacewalker, the goggles kid and his bestie, and Octavia Blake. I thought her brother would follow her - I'd hoped he would. He was already turning into this weird leader figure among the kids, and it didn't sit well with me.

A gut feeling told me things would soon get pretty chaotic around here. And being pretty much on my own, I had to keep my eyes open. There was Bellamy Blake with his instant henchmen, there were some other problematic kids, and then there was Wells freaking Jaha, a walking dead man. I hoped I was wrong about that. I mean, I didn't want him dead. And I sure as hell didn't want murderers among us. But he wasn't a favorite of the now already forming camp. As a matter of fact, he seemed as alone as I was.

He probably mistook that for some friendship basis when he approached me.

''Tasha, right?''

''Yeah...'' I was half-surprised he knew my name, but then again, after the scandal, I had to be realistic and expect a lot of the kids to know.

''I know what you did,'' he said.

''Good.''

''That makes you tough, whether you think you are or not. You can take care of yourself. A lot of these kids can't.''

I wasn't sure where he was going with this, and I half cared. I didn't trust him. Especially after the way he grabbed that goggles kid - what's his name, Justin? - just before they left, only for approaching Clarke. You have to be another level of asshole to get John Murphy to intervene and be the good guy.

John Murphy. The one I didn't know anymore.

''We might need tough clear-headed people around here soon enough,'' Wells continued, looking subtly toward Blake and Murphy and all the other bullies in that group. I got the hint. Either they would bully this camp into submission or it will go wild and rampant, every man for himself. I didn't like either of the options.

''Whatever, Jaha,'' I shrugged him off. I'd survive on my own if need be.

''Just keep your eyes open,'' he said, before he walked away.

The rain started in the afternoon. First day, and beautiful majestic rain. It didn't last very long, and I'd pulled myself into the safety of the Drop Ship until I realized none of the kids were dropping dead because of the rain. Then I stepped out, and felt the drops on my skin, and I had no idea why, but I wanted to cry.

I didn't, of course. Not in this pool of sharks.

When the rain stopped, so did the exaggerated childish joy in the camp. Everyone found stuff to do very quickly, and I found myself unable to sit idly and just wait for the group that left. Maybe a few of us could scout around, not too far, find a source of water.

I had no idea whom I could take with me, but I couldn't leave on my own. So in my lack of choice, my feet were taking me to Wells. For the second time today, I'd have to deal with him. 

I found him in the middle of exactly a water discussion, initiated by no other than John Murphy and his buddies, if you could call bullying and a potential death threat as discussion. _FIRST SON FIRST TO DYE_ , Murphy had carved out on the metal. I regretted coming this way. I did not want to be anywhere near John Murphy. I hadn't spoken to him in years now and I intended to keep it that way.

''My father begged for mercy before your father floated him,'' he said to Wells. Amidst all that rage and hatred there was the last dying glint of the John Murphy I once knew, the John Murphy with a big heart drowning in sadness and ready to freeze over. Then it was gone, and I was again standing before this person I didn't know at all.

''Wells, let's go,'' I said, only because I didn't want to be the first one to break the silence between me and Murphy, even if it was just to tell him to go fuck himself. 

''The chancellor's golden boy,'' he sneered, his buddies backing him up, ''You disappoint me, T.'' 

It took all I had in me not to turn around and punch him for no other reason than him speaking to me. We were supposed to be dead to each other and I wanted - no, needed it to stay that way. But I didn't turn around and punch him, instead I grabbed Wells with the strength and all but dragged him behind me, him limping and all. For some reason, he obliged. Maybe he was just happy he was out of the pickle of a situation. For a moment I wondered if he'd feared Murphy. A lot of people seemed to. 

''You spelled 'die' wrong,'' Wells spat back on our way, ''Geniuses!''

''Leave it,'' I growled.

''Where are we going?'' he asked after a short while.

''We need water. No one seems to be on the task. Everyone seems to be relying on your princess to bring back the treasures.''

Using a spare map we managed to find the river closest to where we were. It took even longer than I'd expected with Wells's bad leg. We didn't talk much on our way, thankfully. It helped us focus on our surroundings and not get lost. The woods were treacherous; if you don't look really hard, sometimes they can look exactly the same at any given spot, and the existence of directions or sides of the world evaporates into nothingness.

''Well, at least it's not too far,'' I said as we watched the streams rush past us.

''Looks clean, but we don't know if it's drinkable.''

''Well, we'll sanitize it,'' I said, crouching down to fill up a bottle, ''Then we'll test it.''

''Test it on whom?''

''Doesn't matter. We need water to survive, and if the waters are too radiated, then Earth is not survivable. We'll all die.''

Wells didn't say anything. 

Our way back may have taken even longer, because by the time we were reaching the perimeter, the sun had just set down and the fires were already up and burning in the camp.

What we found back in camp was everything I didn't want to happen and everything I couldn't stop at this point.

''What the hell are you doing?!?'' Wells was the first one to react, storming up ahead with his bad leg where Bellamy and his assholes were taking off the kids' wristbands one by one.

''We're liberating ourselves. What does it look like?'' Bellamy all but shrug, a smug look on his face that I wanted to punch right out of him.

''It looks like you're trying to get us all killed,'' I said almost through my teeth, not raising my voice. _Control your anger. If we start shouting or throwing punches, it could get really dangerous really fast around here._

''The communication system is dead,'' Wells added, ''These wristbands are all we got. Take them off, and The Ark will think we're dying, that it's not safe for them to follow.''

''That's the point, Chancellor,'' Bellamy replied, acting like he was a god, ''We can take care of ourselves, can't we?''

''Yeah? You think this is a game? Those aren't just our friends and our parents up there. They're our farmers, our doctors, our engineers,'' Wells spoke up, ''I don't care what he tells you. We won't survive here on our own and besides, if it really is safe, how could you not want the rest of our people to come down?''

''My people already _are_ down. _Those_ people locked _my_ people up. _Those_ people _killed_ my mother for the crime of having a second child. _Your_ father did that.''

''My father didn't write the laws.''

''No. He enforced them, but not anymore, not here. Here, there are no laws.''

''Shut up, Blake,'' I spoke up finally, ''You're taking this down a very dangerous road, and it's one you won't be able to handle. You think you're some god around here? Some- leader figure? You've overestimated yourself. If you keep it up like this, they'll chew you up and spit you out. They'll follow you until they no longer do, and then you're done, doomed.''

''You done, sweetheart?''

''You wanna lead?'' I ignored him, ''Fine, you lead us. But this is not the way.''

''No ways, no nothing,'' he insisted, ''Not here. Here, we do whatever the hell we want whenever the hell we want. Now, you don't have to like it. You can even try to stop it or change it, kill me. You know why? Whatever the hell we want.''

He meant it. He really meant it. No laws of any kind. Among these criminals? He gave us an open invitation to murder. He dared us, even. He couldn't have been for real. I just stood there, and the crowd started taking up the chant - _''Whatever the hell we want! Whatever the hell we want!''_ \- and there was nothing else to say, or do. It was out of my power. Of course Bellamy Blake would appeal to all of these delinquents. The idea of freedom, independence, no more shit they had to face on the Ark? He only had to tell them what they wanted to hear. With the right words, they would have given him more than their damn wristbands.

I stepped up to Bellamy Blake, so that he can hear me in the roar of the crowd. Up on my toes I went - he was towering over me - and he even leaned in for me to be able to say it right into his ear.

''You got it all wrong just now. You can try to kill _me_ , Bellamy. Because that's the only way you're getting this wristband.''


	2. Chapter 2

The night turns into chaos. It's chaos I expected. There's shouting, there's laughter, there's fistfights, there's kissing. But there isn't any order. 

This camp was never gonna function. This chaos was going to divide the ninety-nine of us into groups, because there will be people who'll want to not take any of this shit, and then there'll be fighting over supplies, and if there's not bloodshed over that then we'll all die anyways somewhere out there because most of these kids have no idea how to survive. Together, we have a chance. Divided, as I imagine we soon might be, we'll be picked off one by one.

I sit alone, next to a fire, clutching a stick I snapped off a branch on my way back from the river, completely resigned. I sit there, and watch everything go to shit. I spot Wells moping around the camp and trying to reinforce some small bits of order, but his attempts are downright pathetic. There is nothing he can do. The only thing that could stop the chaos is maybe some unfathomable catastrophe that would literally force us to fall back together in a group. But the more time passes the more everyone is comfortable here on this amazing, survivable Earth. There is no need for us to be a team.

Then I hear a shrill scream that wakes me right out of all of my thoughts.

I rush toward it instinctively. I don't know the girl's name but Murphy is holding her over a fire, face down. Me, Wells and Bellamy arrive at the same time, and we seem to share a moment of not knowing what to do and how to do it. I assume this was Blake's orders so what's he playing at? 

Before I can even open my mouth, Wells is on Murphy, and the girl is free, which is good, all with her wristband intact, but here we now have a fight going on, and a fight that could escalate into something much much worse. We do not need that on a night of chaos.

''Stop it!'' I shout, even try to make them stop, but they ignore me, and most of the crowd around seems to even be cheering, definitely no one intervening. 

''You're the leader,'' I step up to Bellamy and say it to his face, ''You stop this.'' He looks at me only for a moment before his eyes fall back on the boys fighting. In another few moments, Murphy is down. And I sigh in relief, thinking the fighting's done. 

Until Murphy pulls out a knife.

''Are you insane?!'' I shout at him, but John doesn't hear me, his eyes are on Wells, wild, insane, bloodthirsty. Everything has taken over him. I'm angry, but at Bellamy the most, and I punch him in the chest as he stands there, hands crossed over his chest, just watching. He seems completely undisturbed and undeterred by my punch and screaming ''Stop them!'' 

Then he steps up between them and for a moment I think he's gonna intervene. But no, he throws a knife in front of Wells.

''Fair fight.''

I can't believe it. I'm standing there watching in utter disbelief. Chances are, someone's going to die. And for what reason. One less of us. Our chance of survival just one soul slimmer.

''If you don't stop this behavior, there's not gonna be any of us left,'' I tell Bellamy once he steps back, ''Is that how you're protecting your sister? What happens when one of them decides to do whatever the hell they want with her? With you? What happens when they turn?''

That's when he really looks at me. It's not even a full turn of his head, but his eyes burning right through mine, his jaw set just a little bit differently. I've hit a pressure point.

Before Bellamy can utter a reply to me, Murphy is down again, Wells's knife to his throat. Again, instinctively, I rush over, pull Wells off of him, not thinking straight, not thinking at all, just wanting that knife away from John Murphy's throat. Wells doesn't fight me.

''It's over,'' I say, but I say it to Bellamy.

The group that had set out for Mount Weather manages to pick the worst time to return. If this was hell, right now our little camp would be where Satan comes for entertainment.

I don't even notice one less has returned until Bellamy rushes right past me to get hold of his sister. She's injured. It doesn't really hit me, but I know that something had gone very, very wrong.

''What the hell happened out there?''

''We were attacked,'' Clarke says, clearly still upset.

''By what?'' I ask, suddenly wondering what kind of fucking beasts could be right out there in the woods that surround us, ''And where's Goggles?''

''Jasper was hit,'' Clarke explains, ''They took him.''

''Took him? As in someone, not something?!''

''It turns out,'' Finn Collins nods, ''When the last man from the ground died on the Ark, he wasn't the last Grounder.''

''It's true,'' Clarke says, ''Everything we thought we knew about the ground is wrong. There are people here, survivors. The good news is, that means we can survive. Radiation won't kill us.''

''Yeah, the bad news is the Grounders will,'' Finn retorts.

''We need walls,'' I say, more to myself than anyone else.

''What about Jasper?'' Wells asks.

''I don't know,'' Clarke sighs desperately, before she notices - ''Hey, what happened to your wristband?''

I didn't notice it in all that commotion. When did they take it off of him? If they managed to take it off of him, how am I going to stand a chance?

''Ask him,'' Wells looks at Bellamy.

''How many?''

''Twenty-four and counting,'' Murphy replies, sounding almost proud. Something aches in my chest for a very short sliver of a moment. Then it turns to rock again.

''You idiots!'' Clarke shouts, ''Life support on the Ark is failing. That's why they brought us down here! They need to know the ground is survivable again, and we need their help against whoever is out there! If you take off your wristbands, you're not just killing them. You're killing us!''

''We're stronger than you think. Don't listen to her,'' Bellamy speaks up, ''She's one of the privileged! If they come down, she'll have it good. How many of you can say the same?! We can take care of ourselves! That wristband on your arm?! It makes you a prisoner. We are not prisoners anymore! They say they'll forgive your crimes. I say you're not criminals! You're fighters, survivors! The Grounders should worry about us!''

People cheer. Again.

''See, it's this kind of talk that gives him a place of power around here,'' I comment, to no one in particular, ''He tells them exactly what they wanna hear.''

''Well, they're not exactly a bunch of geniuses,'' Finn replies, ''What do we do now?''

''Now we go after Jasper,'' Clarke replies.

''With what army?'' I ask. Is everyone around here absolutely fucking nuts?!

''We know he's still alive,'' she says, ''And we can't just leave him knowing that.''

''We can't go in there head first either!'' I argue, ''These people out there, they know the terrain, they know how to survive, they probably know every tree out here from coast to coast. We've got nothing, Clarke. I'll assume they have enough of whatever struck Jasper down for each and every one of us.''

''Spear,'' she replies, ''And you don't have to go.''

''You're right, I don't. It's a fool's errand,'' I say, ''But the way things are around here, maybe it'd do us all good.''

''No one's gonna volunteer,'' Finn tells me, ''If you're thinking about all of us going out there? Forget it. There's no team here. But she's right,'' he turns to Clarke, ''We need some sort of a plan. And we need to be extremely careful. We don't wanna die out there if you want our people to come follow us, princess.''

She nods. ''Get ready, and keep it light. We leave first light.''

In the morning, Finn comes to tell us he's not going. The spear was thrown with pinpoint accuracy, he says. I stand there, unsure of what I want. I could die out there, which I don't want. I hate the obvious risk. I don't blame Finn, in spite of Clarke calling him a coward, and everyone else judging him. It's Clarke that's reckless. 

Or I could sit here, losing my mind, watching these idiots make chaos and draw attention of whatever we now know is out there.

An argument ensues quickly enough. We're all standing there awkwardly, weighing things out, deciding, arguing, with that Monty kid that never left Jasper's side absolutely angry at everyone. It's Octavia's groans of pain that tear me away from my chain of thoughts.

''What the hell was it?'' Bellamy asks, tending to his sister.

''I don't know. The others said it looked like a giant snake,'' she says.

''You could have been killed.''

''She would have been if Jasper didn't jump in to pull her out,'' Clarke says.

''You guys leaving? I'm coming, too,'' Octavia insists.

''No, no. No way. Not again,'' Bellamy shakes his head.

''He's right. Your leg's just gonna slow us down,'' Clarke says, turning to Bellamy, ''I'm here for you.''

''Clarke, what are you doing?'' Wells asks helplessly, speaking for the first time since Clarke rejected and shut him down with all she could earlier. She ignores him.

''I hear you have a gun. Good. Follow me.''

And Bellamy follows.

In less than a couple of minutes, the rescue team consists of Clarke, Bellamy, and Murphy. And Wells, if they let him come, as he insists. And I know that's not enough. Clarke really has too much confidence meaning to go out there with the two least reliable men on Earth; and Wells who I believe would try to keep her safe - the way he loves the girl is obvious - well, Clarke doesn't trust him. The irony of it is ridiculous. It would all be one big clusterfuck.

But it's none of my business, I remind myself. I'm angry at myself for even considering going. I should stay back and help Atom and the rest build the damn walls.

But they are too few, and Clarke is essentially alone, and I am number one at Earth skills, and I don't want them to die out there by eating some poison berries or something. Clarke is the only somewhat responsible person around here, and if she died, I don't know who'd push and keep the balance here at camp. For some reason, imagining Murphy die because of a stupid decision I could have stopped him from making is exactly what pushes me to it. I don't even realize it until I'm out of the damn perimeter, catching up to them.

''I'm coming.''

The way Clarke looks at me, I think she'll give me a kiss right then and there. The way John looks at me, I can't figure out if he's appalled or angry or worried or confused or just miserable.

''You need a weapon,'' I almost jump a bit when Bellamy speaks to me, ''Here.''

I take the makeshift knife. ''Thank you,'' I say, barely hiding my surprise. Instinctively, I look at John. Our eyes meet for a moment, but he looks like he's about to roll his in annoyance.

The fact that Bellamy has given me a weapon doesn't mean he's going to be any less of an asshole. We barely cross a mile before he's pulling Clarke's arm, demanding that wristband, them arguing, me telling him to leave her the fuck alone, Wells literally risking his life in front of Bellamy's flailing gun just for Clarke, Murphy trying to back Bellamy up whilst still keeping some sort of peace as he was the only person not involved, his eyes falling on me every now and then. There's knives and there's a gun and a fight is not something anyone wants at this point, especially not out here.

It's the arrival of Finn Collins that breaks it all off.

''You call this a rescue party? Gotta split up, cover more ground. Clarke, come with me.'' And just like that, they're gone and up ahead. 

Wells and Bellamy have fucked me all the way the fuck over by taking off together. It's now me and John Murphy, and for the first time since this whole thing started, I regret coming. This is worse than all the weapons being flailed about and the risk of imminent Grounder-induced death.

We walk in gross, suffocating silence for what seems like an eternity. I'm intent on not speaking to him, and even more intent on not speaking to him _first_.

But anger somehow boils up in me, so suddenly, I never even saw it coming. And I just can't.

''Well, we're alone now, John. Gonna try and take the wristband from me?'' I sound surprisingly calm, even to myself, ''Better not. Bellamy didn't think this through before he armed me.''

''I'm not gonna take it from you,'' he sounds so resigned and over it, it startles me. He almost sounds saddened over it. Tired, maybe. He doesn't even look at me, just up ahead, his hands in his pockets.

''Not that you could, but I figured you'd try. Seeing as you're Bellamy's dog and all.''

His hand is on me before I can tell. He grabs my arm so firmly I'm sure it'll bruise, and he looks at me with so much, I don't think even he knows what the hell is going on inside of him. The way he went from that to this in less than a second has me startled to say the least.

''I'm nobody's dog,'' he growls, his voice low, menacing, staring me down.

I freeze, not because I'm afraid - I don't fear him one bit - but because I'm stunned. I don't want to look at him, not like this, not this deeply, not after everything. I don't want to know if he's angry or confused or lost or sad. I don't want him near me, because every time I look into those eyes I'm reminded that John Murphy's gone, he's dead, and this person before me is no one I know. Or I'll think I see something in his eyes that's him, the real him, one tiny piece left. I don't want either.

I push him off of me.

''Whatever you say to make yourself feel better,'' I walk on, trying to put some distance between us. 

But he's keeping up.

''And what about you, miss First Lady?,'' he taunts a bit too loudly, ''Natasha Jaha - there's no ring to it. Might wanna reconsider.''

I ignore his provocations.

''You know, after what they did to you, I never thought you'd stoop so low.''

''Just shut up,'' I turn around and hiss, ''Just _shut. Up._ Don't talk like you know. Don't you _dare_ talk like you were there. The way I tried to be there for you. Don't you dare.''

He never thought I'd dare go where I've just gone. He's not prepared for a reply.

''I don't care about any of you,'' I continue, ''You're _nothing_ to me. Wells is nothing to me. The only reason I'm here, helping us survive, is because I want my family down here. And the only way you could stop me from doing all I can to make that happen is by killing me. _And I dare you to try._ ''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is where I switch the story to ''real-time'' present tense. I left the first chapter in the past tense since it serves as more of a prologue/introduction. As you've probably noticed, I re-wrote the chapters into present tense recently. I wanted to do it a long time ago and I shouldn't have waited for this many chapters to pile up LOL. Present tense just gives me more freedom and lets me write better. I hope you like it and that the sudden change doesn't throw you off.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some walls have always been easier to build than to tear down.

I storm off, knowing Murphy's keeping up, we can't afford to get separated either of us, but I walk fast either way, because now it all hits me, and I'm feeling it all, and I don't want him to see my face. In all the possible scenarios of our first real conversation after all that time, I never imagined it like this. I never wanted it like this. And I hate myself so much for feeling hurt, for feeling myself want to cry. It's a real fight to swallow it all, push it all back down. But I do it anyway.

I don't want to risk being forced to hike with Murphy alone for hours, so I manage to catch up with Wells and Bellamy. It's just the four of us for a while, and I like it better that way. Though I don't exactly trust Wells, or like him necessarily, I feel better knowing he's there. It's all about balance, two forces pushing equally to keep up the peaceful status quo.

In all that's happened, I'm shaken enough not to pay enough attention to my actual task. Me and Finn are the best trackers, and Finn is with Clarke. So I take up the lead, keeping Wells behind me. It makes me feel better, keeping Bellamy away from me when I can't have my eyes on him. I'm the only one with the wristband at the moment.

Thankfully, Clarke and Finn find us before we can find them. They've found a track, so we follow.

''Hey, how do we know this is the right way?'' Murphy asks.

''We don't,'' Bellamy replies, ''Spacewalker thinks he's a tracker.''

''It's called cutting sign. Fourth-year earth skills,'' I grumble back, ''He's actually good.''

''What the hell was that?!'' Murphy asks, and I've heard it too.

''This way,'' I rush first, but as quietly as possible, avoiding anything that could make too much noise below my feet.

''Now would be a good time to take out that gun,'' Clarke says. The gun was a good idea, but I don't think it's good in Bellamy's hands.

The moaning noise gets louder, closer. There is a small clearing up ahead, but I decide to peer from the poor shelter of the bushes first, to be somewhat safer from what could await ahead.

''Oh my God.''

''What is it?'' someone asks behind me as they're catching up. I can't speak. I just stand there frozen.

''Jasper. Oh, my God.''

''Clarke, be careful,'' Finn warns, but she's already out there, reckless, stupid, kind-hearted. Because Jasper is strung up a tree, moaning in pain.

''Jasper?'' She's out there. And she's alive, so we follow.

But then she starts running, and Finn is after her, and then we all run, and once she falls into a trap it's Bellamy's hand that saves her life.

I didn't even see her fall. I'm on the edge myself, teetering on my feet, but something keeps me back, and I look down, and there is this huge gaping hole in the ground filled with spikes that would have skewered us all, and Clarke would have died if not for Bellamy. I would have died if not for...

_Murphy._

His hand is on my arm and he looks at me with something I cannot discern. I step back, away from the hole. His hand falls back. I don't say anything. Neither does he.

''We need to get him down,'' Clarke says once we're all back to fully alive.

It's Finn and Murphy that are tasked with cutting the poor boy down, and it's taking them too damn long. Nervousness is gnawing at the insides of my stomach. To say I'm antsy would be an understatement.

''You better hurry up, guys,'' I say, pacing around a bit, keeping my eyes on the perimeter.

And then we all hear _it_.

''What the hell was that?''

''Grounders?''

I stand there, wondering if I should pull back to them or check what's apparently right ahead of me. But the snarling is suddenly so much louder. 

And I see it before I can react, and someone screams ''Bellamy, gun!'' but it takes too long, the waiting for a shot lasts an eternity, and I can't move, and I'll be dead in a second, an eternity long second.

But the shot comes, and the feline animal falls dead mid-jump, right on top of me, toppling me over.

It takes longer than a moment for me to fully grasp the fact that I'm okay. Until I realize I;m suffocating under the weight of the beast.

I push though, and I would have pushed it off me myself even without Clarke and Bellamy's help.

''Well, at least we have dinner,'' Bellamy comments and I just lie there a while longer, breathing, or trying to at least.

''I'm just glad I'm not dinner,'' I mutter, my limbs suddenly shaking even as I'm lying down.

''He's coming loose,'' Finn announces, which gets me on my feet, knees wobbling, adrenaline still making me dizzy. We manage to bring Jasper down safely, but he's still unconscious.

''There's a poultice on his wound,'' Clarke says once she's inspected his body.

''But why?'' I ask, a moment too quickly, because it dawns on me right away. It's Finn that says it instead.

''Bait. Maybe what they're trying to catch is us.''

It's a long, anxious way back to camp - trying to keep our eyes open and stay careful, trying to stay as stealthy as we can, trying to bring back Jasper safely, and hauling our dinner all in one. The tension between us all is palpable, and I've never been more glad to stand before that Drop-Ship like on this evening, when we make it back. The walls are being put up. Everything somehow seems okay again, like when we'd just landed. Even though I know it isn't. 

We're greeted right away with a ''They're back!'' and ''Is he okay?'' and ''What happened?'' and so much else.

''He's alive,'' Clarke instructs immediately, ''I need boiled water and strips of cloth for bandage.''

''Who's hungry?!'' Bellamy throws the beast down, to which the crowd around him cheers, yet again. 

''You know, it was Wells that took that shot,'' Finn tells me as we watch the insufferable man before us still work magic on all these kids.

''Look at him,'' I scoff, crossing my arms, ''Amazing.''

It isn't long before Bellamy comes up with the idea of using the food for leverage. The kids are starving, and those who previously didn't want to are now taking off their wristbands just for dinner. If I wasn't before, now I'm sure that I really really do not like Bellamy Blake.

''He's stable for now, but without medicine…,'' Clarke starts once she joins us, ''They're taking off their wristbands for food? No way. I- I won't do it.''

''Neither will I,'' I say.

''You won't have to,'' Finn decides, and buys us all dinner with his wristband. 

I don't know how to thank him. He doesn't manage to take much, but it's better than nothing. I don't realize how hungry I am until the smell of roasted meat brings it back up. My stomach _rumbles_. I can't remember the last time I felt so grateful.

Not because of this act, but it's official - Finn seems to be the only person around I actually have no problem with having in my company.

The night is clear, pleasant; the fires are giving enough warmth and comfort and the sound of them crackling seems to bring some calm and harmony. There is no chaos this night. Some are still working on the walls, but most who've worked all day are now resting, sitting around the fires, together. We'd continue working on the walls in the morning - Grounders have to sleep too, and if they are coming tonight, we're all dead anyway. Maybe it's what happened with Jasper that's scared us into this seemingly harmonious state of the group - maybe somewhere in the back of our minds we all now know we'll have to stick together if shit hits the fan, or die each and every one of us. We don't have to like each other, we just have to work together.

I sit next to Finn and Clarke, but truthfully I'm sitting alone - they seem to be in their own world. It's kind of cute, actually, so I just slowly chew on the food my newly made friend acquired for me, and let them be, watching over the camp.

I've always liked watching people. Not in a creepy way, but there is always something in the seemingly meaningless small actions of people that reveal a bit of who they are as persons. We're never what we seem. And we're never what we are to one person or another. Take Blake for example. He's an asshole by definition. Right now he's also a bully. A player too, by the amount of girls that have gone in and out of his tent since day one. Most of the time he acts like he has some God complex. But he is here because and for his sister. He is here because of the most selfless act he could have possibly committed. Whether I like him or not doesn't matter; the fact of the matter is he isn't only who he seems to be. There is much more there; there has to be more behind that ego. Just like there is much more to me than people know, to Clarke, to Murphy, to Finn.

I look to Murphy. He's sitting surrounded by his buddies, but alone. They're all joking around and having fun, but he just sits there and eats, staring at the fire.

The longing I feel right in this moment makes me furious at myself all over again.

''What's up with you and Murphy?'' Finn asks right out of nowhere.

''Hm?''

''You and Murphy. It's kind of... palpable.''

''What? There's nothing.''

''Really?''

''Yeah.''

''Good, 'cause someone like you with someone like him...''

I don't know why that unfinished statement makes me angry.

''It's not like that,'' I blurt out before I can stop myself.

''Oh, so there is something?''

I don't think anyone knows. And it doesn't matter. What John Murphy and I once were doesn't matter at all.

''You don't have to tell me,'' Finn replies to my silence. I don't even realize I've been silent for that long.

''No, it's okay,'' I give him a small smile, ''Actually... Murphy and I go way back. He was a friend. Best friend. Kind of like what I imagine having a brother would be like.''

''Oh,'' he says, before he frowns in confusion, ''Really?!''

''Yeah, really. I can see why you'd find that unbelievable,'' I joke, ''But he was a good kid. A really good kid.''

Finn is still half-scowling half-smiling, as though trying to figure out if I'm joking or not. I laugh.

''But stuff happened. Things change, people change,'' I conclude with a shrug, ''But yeah, it wasn't like that. Ever.''

''Life's weird,'' he says.

''Tell me about it.''


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Earth gets more dangerous, in more ways than one.

I don't know Clarke Griffin very well, but her mother is a good woman. It's easy to dislike Clarke, her coming essentially from a well-off family and a place of privilege, but it wouldn't be fair. I've decided to start giving people chances, especially people that have already proved in one way or another that they aren't so bad after all. Like Clarke.

Clarke's mom was one of the few people that took my side and stood by me before I was locked up. Doctor Abigail Griffin. It wasn't even because my mom knew her and sometimes worked for her, it was because Abby genuinely believed me and did all she could to try and prove I was telling the truth. She couldn't do anything in the end because they didn't let her, but that didn't matter to me after everything was said and done. The fact that she'd tried is why I've never been able to forget it, or her.

Maybe Clarke knows that I know her mom, maybe she knows my entire story, but doesn't want to bring it up for my sake. _If she doesn't_ , I think, _then maybe I'll tell her one day_.

The fact that I'm thinking about all this isn't because I suddenly feel like recalling memories from the Ark. It's because I can't bloody sleep. Most people can't. I was wrong about the whole peace and harmony thing, because the moment we went to sleep was the moment the nightmare started. And it's been three days now. Jasper has been moaning and crying in pain and agony, and it's impossible to ignore. A lot of people are less than sympathetic, too.

And it isn't ninety-nine of us any longer, either. Someone has just realized two are missing, Trina and Pascal. The fact that no one's noticed for two days is terrible. I don't know them, but even if I did, it doesn't matter - I know there is no going after them. It's different than with Jasper. With Jasper we had something to go on. The couple would either come back by themselves or not come back at all. Going after them blindly would mean more of us missing. All we can do is keep an eye out for them when we're out there, hunting or on other errands.

All in all, people are tired, scared, and half-hungry, and it sucks.

As Jasper moans in pain, some are getting downright pissed, shouting to be quiet or some other nonsense, as though the poor kid can control it. Clarke seems to be doing all she can, up all night. She keeps talking to him too, trying to calm him. But it isn't to much avail.

In fact, his moans are getting much louder.

I get up. There's no sleep, but at least I can try and be helpful.

''The Grounders cauterized the wound. Saved his life,'' Clarke says, ''This is infected. He could be septic. Any progress on using the wristbands to contact the Ark? Monty?''

''That would be a firm 'no','' says Monty.

''My mother would know what to do,'' Clarke says regretfully.

''Keep working on it, Monty,'' I say, then address the medic in charge, ''Tell us how we can help. Not being particularly altruistic or anything but the kid's not a favorite around here.''

''Right. Hold him down.''

That I can do, with Wells now come to help. Clarke shoots him a death glare, but he proceeds on uninvited anyway.

Jasper is now screaming - actual, horrifying screams at the top of his lungs. It upsets me deeply, but we hold him down as Clarke tries to deal with the infected flesh. People are getting up, some are storming off. The Blake siblings storm right in.

''Stop it! You're killing him!'' Octavia cries out.

''She's trying to save his life,'' Finn argues.

''She can't,'' Bellamy says.

''Shut up, Blake,'' I growl.

''That seems to be your catchphrase,'' he quips.

''We didn't drag him through miles of woods just to let him die,'' Clarke insists.

''Kid's a goner,'' Bellamy goes on, ''If you can't see that, you're deluded. He's making people crazy.''

''Sorry if Jasper's an inconvenience to you, but this isn't the Ark. Down here, every life matters,'' Clarke argues.

''Whatever the hell we want, right?'' I say, ''Well, we want this. Back off.''

''Take a look at him. He's a lost cause.''

''Octavia, I've spent my whole life watching my mother heal people,'' Clarke tells her, ''If I say there's hope, there's hope.''

''This isn’t about hope, it's about guts,'' Bellamy _still_ talks, ''You don't have the guts to make the hard choices. I do. He's been like this for three days. If he's not better by tomorrow, I'll kill him myself.''

''Will someone get him out of here?!'' I almost scream.

''Octavia, let's go.''

''I'm staying here,'' she says coldly. That seems to be enough to make him leave.

''Power-hungry, self-serving jackass. He doesn't care about anyone but himself,'' Monty spits, ''... No offense.''

''Yeah. Bellamy is all that,'' Finn says, ''But he also happens to be right.''

''No, he's not,'' I say, ''Clarke should know better than you two. The only part that he was right about was that Jasper's driving people crazy. We all have enough on our plates without being reminded by his crying that we're all dead meat. People can't even sleep.''

''You're both mad,'' Finn says, ''I'm sorry, but look at him.''

''I'm not mad,'' Clarke retorts, ''I know what I know and I believe what I believe. You want to think Jasper's a lost cause, go ahead. You're wrong.''

''I hope I am.''

''What if we can find this stuff the Grounders used to heal him?'' I ask, seeing Clarke play with the red thingy on Jasper's poultice.

''Whatever this stuff is, it has to have had antibiotic properties,'' she says.

''If we could find more, we could make him better,'' I reason, ''Whatever it is, it's just wearing off.''

''Let me take a look,'' Wells approaches, ''Before you refuse my help, remember who aced botany in Earth Skills.''

And in another few minutes, he's managed to figure it out. In some minutes more, they're gone in search for the weed, together with Finn. The sun is already coming up.

''Watch him,'' Clarke had told me before they left.

''I don't know much about medicine, Clarke, I probably won't be able to save him if something happens.''

''I didn't mean it like that,'' she said, and I understand. Watch him. Don't leave him alone. Don't let anyone hurt him.

How did I end up in this mess?

Not that Bellamy or his militia are around to hurt him - they've just gone out, hunting. Still, there are a lot more people around here that wanted Jasper to just shut the hell up. Luckily, he's falling deeper in his slumber, calming. People around don't seem as irritated. For now.

And I can't just sit here all day, useless, with a stick and a knife.

''Murphy!'' I call as he enters the Drop-Ship to pick some of his stuff up. He turns around. 

''Where you going?'' I ask.

''Why do you care?''

''Hunting?''

''Again, why do you care?''

''With a tongue that sharp one would think you'd be capable of answering a simple question.''

He takes a moment, almost barely resisting rolling his eyes and giving a sigh of irritation. ''Yes. Hunting.''

''Thank you for indulging me,'' I reply sarcastically, ''I'm coming with.''

''And who's gonna watch Moaning Myrtle?''

''Don't be an asshole.''

''I will,'' Octavia steps in. ''Don't worry,'' she gives me a smile.

''Clarke kind of put me on the spot anyway, I'm not very good at health care,'' I admit.

''He'll be fine with me. Go. Be careful.''

I nod thanks, grab my stuff, make sure my knife is on my belt, and follow Murphy's steps. 

After our first outburst, this isn't so uncomfortable at all. After everything, I kind of don't care anymore. He keeps a distance in front of me, until we catch up with Bellamy's group.

''That knife I gave you, you sure you can use it?'' he greets me with the question.

''Probably better than most of the blundering baboons you decided to take with you,'' I say, though quietly enough, still not wanting some of those kids to hear me. Antagonizing folks probably isn't the smartest thing at this point.

''You better not chase away a meal.''

''Don't you worry about me.''

''How's the kid?'' he asks.

''Actually, he was much better, when I left him. How's that make you feel?''

''I don't know what kind of monster you think I am, Tasha,'' he says, and the way it's so off-hand has me taken aback a bit. Maybe I'm just being a bitch, really. That comment wasn't exactly fair from my part, I doubt Bellamy wants Jasper to die. But we keep on.

After a while of tracking in silence, there it is - a nice, fat, delicious-lookin' boar, oinking, completely oblivious to us. 

''Shh.... She's mine,'' Bellamy claims it, and positions himself, ready to throw the axe.

But then something snaps behind us and his axe is flying in the opposite direction and me and Atom have our knives out before either can blink. Bellamy's axe has ended up in a tree. A little girl stands right next to it.

The boar has taken off, and some of the boys have ran off trying to catch it still, but I'm oblivious to that. I stand frozen and entranced by the child, just standing there next to a still quivering axe too close to her face.

''Oh my God, sweetie?'' I can't believe she's out here, first of all, ''You could have gotten killed just now!''

''Who the hell are you?'' Bellamy asks her.

''Don't scare her with that demeanor,'' I say.

''Charlotte. And I'm not scared.''

''Well, I almost killed you. Why aren't you back at camp?''

''Well, what with that guy who was dying, I just… I couldn't listen anymore.''

Bellamy looks at me in that sort of a _what-did-I-tell-you?_ kind of way. But I'm sure Jasper was feeling better when I left him with Octavia.

''There's Grounders out here,'' Atom tells her, ''It's too dangerous for a little girl.''

''I'm not little.''

''Okay, then,'' Bellamy pulls out a knife and hands it to her, ''But you can't hunt without a weapon. Ever killed something before?''

''Bellamy...,'' I start, feeling iffy about giving a weapon to a child, but then again I realize this isn't the Ark, and the kid would have to learn to use a weapon sooner or later if she's going to be able to survive without always depending on someone else. Charlotte just shakes her head to Bellamy's question. No, she hasn't killed anything. The little thing.

''Who knows? Maybe you're good at it,'' Bellamy says.

''That'd be great, seeing as the boar is gone,'' says Atom.

''We'll find something else,'' Bellamy assures.

''Better keep moving then,'' I remind them, before we all move up ahead.

Silence covers us again, but it's pleasant silence. We're focused on tracking, on tuning in our senses, and Charlotte tries not to stand in the way and does her best not to make any noise.

''So,'' Bellamy starts, quietly, ''Since you were all so bent on proclaiming me First Asshole of the world, why'd you leave?''

''Jasper? There's not much I can do for him. And I couldn't just sit and wait. Better do something useful with my time. And my actual skills.''

''You sure it has nothing to do with not withstanding the deathbed moans anymore?''

''You don't know me very well, Bellamy. I'm very good at withstanding suffering. Both mine and of others.''

''I feel like there's a story somewhere in there.''

''What's your story, then? And I don't mean Octavia. Why do you have to be such an asshole? It can't be just a rebel kind of thing. I mean, none of us like the way things work on the Ark, any more than you do. So what's the deal? What did you do?''

He stops for a moment, as though trying to think of a snarky reply. He's left hanging. ''No story. Just a rebel.''

''I don't believe that for a second.''

The sound of a hundred horns suddenly blares through the air. It seems to come from everywhere at once, and it's so sudden it chills our very bones, and we all just stand there for a long moment, unsure, frozen, scared, skin crawling.

''What the hell is that?!'' Atom asks.

''Grounders?'' Bellamy suggests.

''That sounds like war-horns,'' I say honestly. And it isn't stopping.

''What do we do?''

''We can't just stand here. We're out in the open.''

''Then where do we go?'' I ask.

''I know a place. There's caves. But we have to hurry and hide,'' Bellamy ushers us, but I spot something in the distance, something coming from where all the high mountainsides seem to be. It looks like a small speck of yellow dust very slowly nearing us, and as it does, it's becoming bigger.

''Bellamy, wait,'' I point to it, ''What is that?''

The closer it gets, the faster it seems to be going, until I can finally see it's some sort of fog.

''You aced all the Earth skills, you tell me,'' he says.

But I can't. This thing isn't something we ever learned about. I've never heard of anything like it. It looks like regular fog, except much denser, moving much faster, and yellow.

Suddenly, every hair on my body stands up. Suddenly, adrenaline sets every nerve in my body on fire. Suddenly, I know. I don't know exactly how, but I know.

''Nothing normal should be that color,'' I say, ''Run!!!!!!!''

We take off running at the speed of light, Bellamy keeping to little Charlotte, me right behind them and Atom right behind us. I can hear the other groups shouting through the woods too - they've figured it out as well. I dare not look behind, if I'm going to die I'd rather it took me unawares.

''Come on!'' Bellamy shouts, ''The caves are this way!!''

The horns are not stopping. The fog is catching up to us. We're close to the caves, but suddenly Atom is calling out our names, and we try to help him, but he's tripped and fallen and he's being engulfed by this thing that seems to be burning him alive and there is nothing we can do, so we take off, me hauling Charlotte by one hand and Bellamy by the other, until we're in the safety of the mountain walls.

We make sure to be as far down the dark cave as it's safe, and once the adrenaline starts leaving our bodies, we all drop down. We sit there re-gaining our strength, re-establishing our breathing, not speaking. Poor Charlotte is hugging her knees, her eyes trained on her feet.

''Regret not staying back now?'' Bellamy asks.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasha reveals her crimes - incidentally, to the one person that would understand them best.

''Atom,'' I say, but I never planned on finishing that sentence. Just a short prayer in the form of a name. A begging word to an unknown God.

''What the hell was that?'' Bellamy asks. Charlotte is still hugging her knees, as miserable as ever.

''The way it burned his skin, it has to be some sort of acid,'' I say, ''Which wouldn't be so out of place and incredible if the day hadn't been as clear as ever.''

''It doesn't make any sense,'' Bellamy starts pacing around, directing his anger at who knows what.

''We have to get to know Earth, Bellamy. Of course it doesn't make any sense.''

''How long will it last?'' Charlotte speaks for the first time, her voice groggy.

''I don't know, sweetie,'' I touch her shoulder, unsure of how to comfort her, ''But we're perfectly safe here until it's gone.''

''You should get some sleep,'' Bellamy tells her, already making her a pillow from his jacket, ''We might stay the whole night.

Charlotte is out cold fast. She's just a kid anyway, tired, hungry, scared. Sleep is comfort.

Bellamy and I just sit there in silence, leaning against the cold walls of the cave. Time drags on. I try thinking about the fog, try figuring it out, but it's impossible. There is no prior experience I can build upon, no knowledge I can base it on. Two things I _can_ figure out: one - it's acidic and probably deadly; two - it hardly looks natural, which is the most confusing thing about it. Did Earth become just one giant weapon itself after that damned war? And the horns. Was it a war cry? Or a warning?

''The horns,'' Bellamy speaks after who knows how long, as though reading my mind, ''They announce it.''

''Or they warn against it.''

''This could be Grounders. This could be their weapon. To annihilate us.''

''Yeah, I don't think people using spears and climbing trees have enough technology to create an acid fog, Bellamy,'' I point out, ''Most likely it burns them the way it burns us. It's probably a way to warn everyone.''

He seems to be thinking it through. ''That's a lot of maybes.''

''I know. But the next time I hear that, I'm running before I see yellow.''

He nods in half-agreement. ''We'll check periodically to see if it's safe. You should sleep. I'm on first watch.''

''Be careful,'' I tell him, ''Don't even stick a finger out. We don't know all the kinds of damage it can cause.''

He nods again, this time in some sort of appreciation for the tip, before he walks toward the entrance. I try to make myself as comfortable as I can, but there's only so much you can do in a rocky cave. Knowing I'd need the strength soon, I really try to fall asleep, especially after poor, twenty-minute long, periodical naps I barely managed to take in the past almost two days because of Jasper. But I can't sleep. Not deep sleep anyway. I slip in and out of shallow naps only to see Bellamy in different parts of the cave every time I open my eyes. He's restless. Charlotte, on the other hand, is in deep.

I must have slept another short round because the next time I open my eyes, Bellamy is sitting across from me, back against the wall, knees drawn, arms resting on them. 

''Can't sleep?'' he finally asks.

I shake my head, barely having the strength to speak at the moment. The past two days are taking its toll on me. ''And I'm exhausted.''

''What, you don't trust me?'' his eyes fall on my wristband. And I've completely forgotten about it.

''No, I trust you,'' I say - it makes him lift his eyebrows in amused surprise, ''... here and now. There's bigger stuff to think about.''

He slowly nods in understanding, taking my point.

''Is it still out there?'' I ask.

''Yeah. Not as dense, but it seems like it's evaporating slowly here between the dense forests and mountainsides.''

''We'll wait it out. It should be gone by the morning.''

''You think the others made it?'' he asks. He asks _me_. First of all, the fact that he cares at all half blows my mind. Second of all, the great Bellamy Blake is seeking reassurance from someone else?

''I don't know,'' I reply honestly, ''But they did figure it out on time, I saw them run.''

He's shaking after a while. The later in the night it gets, the colder it gets, but I'm not sure if he's trembling because he's cold or afraid or just downright angry. He seems to be a bit angry. His jaw set, his eyes restless, his mind probably running rampant. He's pissed at Earth, and even more pissed at the Ark, and that must be pretty damn awful.

''You tired?'' I ask.

''Nah,'' he shakes his head.

''What, you don't trust me?'' I smile, teasing him with his own words.

''What could you possibly want from me? Supplies?'' the corners of his lips quirk up. I can hardly believe I'm sitting here bantering with Bellamy Blake like we're old buddies or something.

''Maybe I'd just kill you. Get rid of the pain in the ass. Liberate the camp.''

''Nah, you don't want me dead. You just want me to shut up. _''Shut up, Blake!''_ Right?''

I chuckle quietly - I can't help it; it escapes me. Even that echoes through the cave.

''Who knew. She can laugh.''

''Who knew, he can take a break from being an asshole.''

He smiles and nods, as though saying ''fair enough''.

''No, but seriously,'' I continue, ''Why are you so bent on making sure the Ark thinks we're dead?''

His smile slowly disappears. He doesn't want to talk about it, but this is bigger than just him, and if I can get it out of him then maybe we'll know what we're dealing with, and how to stop him from this weird obsession of his. 

''I've already told you.''

''You just told us a bunch of things those delinquents have been dying to hear, and you know that. Look, Bellamy, I get you completely. For some of the things that had been done to me, I would blow up the Ark myself in an instant. But not everyone up there deserves to die. You don't have anyone else up there, that's great, but my parents are still there, anxious to know I'm still alive, every minute that passes. They're good people.''

He looks up, and he looks almost sorry, guilty for a moment. It's as though the look in his eyes means ''I know and I'm sorry but I'm doing this anyway and I don't have a choice.''

''Look, forget my parents,'' I add, waving off, ''It's bigger than them. There's farmers up there, botanists, medics, engineers, trained militia. You were right about us being strong - we're strong and stubborn. But there's so much we have no idea about.''

''I know,'' he says, ''But we'll learn.''

''If we don't die out before it.''

''We won't,'' he says with determination.

''Why do you want them to not get down so bad? The Earth is huge, you wouldn't have to live with those people if you hate them so much.''

He's now trembling much more visibly. I take off my jacket, sit down next to him, and cover us both. He seems a bit surprised by the act, but only for a moment.

''Since we're both on watch,'' I explain.

He never answered my question. Another silence ensues, before he gives me one.

''What did you do?'' he asks, ''There are stories.'' Meaning there are so many versions, no one knows the actual truth.

I decide to tell him. I hate telling it, but it isn't like I have anything to lose. Best case scenario, I'll get him to give me at least a hint of his motives.

''My mom got sick. It wasn't anything, like, immediately deadly, but if you don't treat it... Well,'' I say, not wanting to say the actual words, ''It's a super rare disease, and she needed the super rare medicine we could never in a million years afford. She worked two jobs too. Got extra training to become a teacher. So she was teaching kids up there on top of being a nurse. Dad's in maintenance. And all of that combined... we couldn't make her better.''

''So you stole,'' he guesses, though kind of surprised since none of the stories ever had me locked up for stealing.

''Yeah. And I got caught. Luckily, it was on my second round, so I'd already managed to get enough of it to mom to last her a while.''

We're warmer now, sharing body heat beneath the jacket. The skin of his arm that's touching mine is so pleasantly warm, it's all almost able to lull me into sleep. But I feel so tired and so unable to close my eyes at the same time, it's mentally exhausting. So I'm glad we're talking.

''The guard that caught me gave me a deal,'' I continue, swallowing, heart-thumping, ''He wouldn't turn me in if I had sex with him.''

Bellamy frowns. I don't dare look at him for longer than a second, not at this part.

''And you know what? God, for a moment, I was considering it. It was either that or death. My type of offence was sure to get me floated, no two ways about it. But then I thought, he'll have leverage over me forever. He'll be able to just track me down and demand the same from me over and over again under the threat of turning me in. And he could do it, despite me giving him what he wanted. The moment he got bored.''

''Bastard,'' Bellamy comments with spite. We have a common enemy, and somehow that just strengthens his hatred. ''So... you tried to kill him?'' he asks, because that's the common story.

''Remove the threat? No, actually,'' I explain, ''I simply, politely, declined.''

He scowls. Because that makes no sense.

''Then he grabbed me,'' I explain, ''Tried to force himself on me. For some reason, I still had a pen on me. It had to be adrenaline that gave me enough strength to stick it in his neck.''

''Damn,'' he only says.

''Attempted murder.''

''But that's not fair,'' he says, ''You're the victim.''

''I know, but if it hadn't been for attempted murder it would have been for stealing invaluable resources, so it kind of didn't matter.''

''Sucks,'' he shakes his head, brows furrowed.

''Yeah. My parents having to deal with the whole thing was the worst though. It was killing them.''

''To think I'd almost become one of them.''

''Guards?''

''Yeah.''

''Well, maybe it would have been for the better. More decent people in the uniform. Less danger for the citizens, you know. There's all kinds of scum holding the power.''

''I'm gonna take that as a compliment, sharpie,'' he grins.

''You should, I don't just hand them out for the taking,'' I joke.

''I don't think we're really gonna be pardoned once they get down here,'' he finally admits, ''And I did something worse than all of us combined.''

 _Bingo_. I don't push for more because the details don't matter at the moment. I know why he's doing it all. Now it makes sense.

Charlotte screams. We jump on our feet immediately, to see the kid kicking and screaming still in her sleep. Bellamy rushes to her, shakes her to wake her up. ''No!'' she cries.

''Charlotte, wake up!'' Bellamy calls frantically. The kid opens her eyes, and then starts crying again once she realizes she must have woken us.

''I'm sorry,'' she sniffs.

''We weren't sleeping,'' I assure her, shaking my head.

''Does it happen often?'' Bellamy asks her. She just sighs desperately. ''What are you scared of? You know what? It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is what you do about it.''

''But… I'm asleep,'' she replies.

''Fears are fears. Slay your demons when you're awake, they won't be there to get you when you sleep.''

''Yeah, but… How?''

''You can't afford to be weak. Down here, weakness is death, fear is death. Let me see that knife I gave you,'' Bellamy says, and the girl hands it to him right away.

''Now, when you feel afraid, you hold tight to that knife and you say: _Screw you. I'm not afraid_ ,'' he gives her the knife. I watch this whole scene bewildered and endeared.

Charlotte grips the knife. ''Screw you. I'm not afraid.''

Bellamy gives her a _come-on-you-can-do-better-than-that_ look. 

''Screw you,'' she says more determinedly, ''I'm not afraid.''

The poor thing. I grin, but the whole scene is somehow so sad, it's awful. A child shouldn't have to be dealing with any of this. Bellamy smiles at her and pats her gently.

''Slay your demons, kid. Then you'll be able to sleep.''

''Try sleeping now,'' I suggest, ''There's still time before dawn.''

She nods, puts her knife next to her, and lays down her head. Bellamy turns around to look at me, but I proceed to check on the situation outside. The sky is already purple-ish. I can see the remains of the fog in the air, but I'm sure it will all dissipate by the time light hits us.

''We really should try and sleep a bit now,'' he proposes, and I couldn't agree more.

''My demons are out there, Bellamy. I won't sleep until we're back at camp.''


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lessons are learned. Real horrors start.

''It's all clear,'' Bellamy announces, ''Anybody out here?! Jones?!''

''We're here!!!''

''Thank God,'' I breathe. We rush toward the sound, and meet up with the rest. They seem to have all made it.

''Lost you in the stew,'' Bellamy says, ''Where'd you go?''

''Made it to a cave down there,'' Jones explains, ''The hell _was_ that thing?''

''Acid,'' I reply immediately, ''And I'm pretty sure we can expect it sometime again.''

Jones scowls, almost in pain.

''We need to find Atom,'' Bellamy says.

We split up but keep close enough to not get completely separated. I keep to Bellamy, with Charlotte insisting on helping in the search, somehow always up ahead. We try to keep up, but the kid is agile and full of energy. I told her to not get separated or she'll get lost, but it takes reminding, because somehow she's always disappearing every now and then. Maybe she's decided to take Bellamy's advice immediately. No more being afraid.

But she's just a kid, and when we hear her shrill screams and run toward the sound, I'm reminded of just that. She's found Atom, burned and blistered and dying on the ground, and she's screaming, because what kid wouldn't?

''Son of a bitch, Atom.''

''Stand back, Charlotte!'' I order, ''Don't look!''

She takes a few steps back, obeying, as Bellamy and I get down to our knees, but there is no helping the boy, no matter how much Bellamy wants to help him, or how much he checks his body to find a solution - our hands are tied. He's dying, and in terrifying agony at that too.

''Kill me,'' he gasps out, ''Kill me. Kill... me.''

Others start catching up and appearing, and in all that craziness Charlotte has pulled out her knife, given it to Bellamy and said: ''Don't be afraid.''

And he just stands there, knife in hand, staring at Atom, unable to move.

''I... can't... breathe,'' the dying boy croaks, and Bellamy moves his hand, but it looks like he'll break down before he can touch Atom.

''Bellamy,'' I say, meaning _''It's okay. It's your call. This is mercy but it's still your call.''_ Because it's unfair, and it has fallen upon him, and I don't know if I would be able to do it if he pulled back.

''Go back to camp,'' Bellamy tells everyone. He would try to do it, but he doesn't want anyone to watch.

''Go,'' I say, refusing to leave him now, ''Take Charlotte.''

Bellamy looks up to meet my eyes, and I just look back and I know he understands me. _I'm not leaving. Not now, after the whole mess. You don't have to do it alone. You don't deserve that._

''Kill... me. Bell...a...my... pl...ea..se.''

And he's trying to. He's working so hard on getting his hand to move.

''Clarke!'' I exclaim once she's appeared, and I don't know why it feels so much better to have her here. Maybe it's just good seeing a familiar face after two days that seem to have lasted an eternity. She joins us, kneels next to us, while Atom is still trying to beg.

''I heard screams,'' she explains.

''Charlotte found him,'' Bellamy says, a tortured look on his face, ''We sent her back to camp.''

Clarke looks Atom over, sighs, gives us a heartbroken shake of her head, and we nod, because we know, we've known all along - Atom was dead the moment he fell.

''Okay,'' Clarke speaks to Atom, ''I'm gonna help you, alright?'' 

She runs her hands through his hair gently and starts humming a song that would have calmed a war to a halt, and I just stand there, watching, a lump in my throat, as she takes the knife from Bellamy and gently inserts it into Atom's neck. He bleeds out, and she sings still, until he's completely gone, and all Bellamy can do is stare at Clarke who's done what he couldn't, and all I can do is stare at the red river flowing out of Atom's neck.

It's the worst trip back so far, as we haul Atom's body and meet up with Finn and Wells. Atom's body isn't too heavy. But he's heavy on all of us. It's Bellamy that hauls him on a makeshift gurney, in silence all along. I can tell there's a lot on his mind. And in all of that, we have to hurry, for Jasper.

''You guys should move up ahead, Jasper can't wait,'' I tell them, ''We're right behind you.''

''There could be Grounders around here, you can't be alone, pulling Atom along,'' Finn reasons.

''I'll stay with them,'' Wells says, and so Finn and Clarke rush ahead, and we keep on.

''The guts to make the hard choices, huh,'' I say after a while, but not with spite. Bellamy isn't cold-blooded or blood-thirsty, and that's a good thing. I'm not nagging him about it; I'm pointing it out. Bellamy couldn't even kill Atom out of mercy, there was no way in hell he would have ever been capable of harming Jasper. Honestly, that's a relief. But Bellamy and Wells keep silent. 

We make it back to camp in a twenty minute difference, apparently. Wells has gone off to dig out a grave immediately, and I stick around to help Bellamy deal with Atom's body.

''Octavia, just stay there,'' Bellamy suddenly shouts; I look up - the girl is rushing toward us, shoving everyone out of the way, ''Please, stay back!''

''Why?'' she insists, but he pushes against, tries to stop her from approaching. She manages to push Bellamy away anyway and lifts the jacket that covers Atom before I can even say anything.

''There's nothing I could do-,'' Bellamy starts explaining, but she won't hear it.

''Don't,'' Octavia hisses, then starts crying. Bellamy tries to touch her, awkwardly, to talk to her and explain, but she just rejects him, shakes her head, hisses back, pushes him away. And then she storms off and he just stands there looking like he's about to start crying himself. I just pull the jacket back over Atom. What a fucking day.

''Lose anyone here?'' Bellamy asks Murphy once he approaches.

''No.''

''Jasper?''

''Still breathing. Barely. I tried to take him out, but your psycho little sister…''

Bellamy lunges at Murphy and shoves him before you could even see what's going on.

''Hey, hey, hey!'' I shout. Murphy is an ass, but we've had enough for the day.

''Bellamy…'' Murphy starts, but Bellamy just pulls him by the collar, gets all up in his face.

''My what? My what?'' he growls.

''Bellamy,'' I say, trying to tell him it's not worth it.

''Your little sister,'' Murphy replies, so Bellamy shoves him off, letting go of him.

''Yeah, that's right. My little sister. Got anything else you want to say about her?''

Murphy just stands there staring at Bellamy's face with the most passive uninterested look on his face ever. ''Nothing,'' he finally says, ''Sorry.''

Bellamy just sizes Murphy up one last time. ''Get him out of here,'' he motions to Atom's body, suddenly looking beyond tired. Jones and a few other boys get to the task immediately. Murphy has stormed off somewhere.

''Wells is still digging, but you can take him away,'' I tell Jones, seeing as Bellamy is still standing there, hands on his hips, absolutely fuming and completely unable to give any sort of orders for the moment. The boys nod at me and pick Atom up right away, carrying him off.

''Hey,'' I call to Bellamy, ''You okay?''

He doesn't reply, so I step up to him. He doesn't look okay. He doesn't dare look at me; his eyes are darting across the camp as he tries to settle down his breathing.

''Octavia liked the boy,'' I'd long concluded, ''But it's not your fault.''

''I didn't let them. I was trying to protect her.''

I watch him swallow the lump in his throat, and the clenching of the knuckles on his hips, and the veins that pulse on his temple and neck, and the way his jaw is set. The day has been too much. Everything, since we got here, has been too much.

''What's done is done. We move forward. No use looking back, unless it's to draw a lesson from it.''

He nods. He knows. He's learned the lesson.

''Octavia will be okay,'' I say.

''I know.''

''We all did our best. Let's go check on Jasper.''

He nods again, so we go together. The Drop-Ship is no longer shaking with the echoes of Jasper's cries. Relief rushes through me when we see he's better, visibly better. His breathing even, his sleep calm.

''Guess we'll get to sleep tonight,'' I say.

And we do. There is finally peace, and after such a long nightmare, the silence almost seems out of place, like there is something missing, like we've gotten used to the terrifying cries and fear and anxiety looming over our minds. 

I sleep less than I thought I would. I guess once the sleep pattern is ruined, getting it back to normal will be a feat. It's Octavia that wakes me up, unintentionally, apologizing, as she steps around me to walk out of the Drop-Ship. Everyone around us is asleep.

''Where are you going?'' I ask in a whisper. I only notice now that she's been crying.

''The graveyard,'' she whispers back softly.

''I'm coming with,'' I say, knowing I won't be able to fall asleep again. And none of us should wander alone.

She nods in gratefulness, sniffling, and we silently make our way outside.

''I'm sorry about Atom,'' I say as we walk, ''There really was nothing we could do. We barely made it ourselves.''

''I know.''

''Bellamy wanted to help him but there was nothing he could have done.''

''I know.'' 

It's not about that, apparently. I leave it at that.

When we get to the graveyard, I don't even notice Wells right away. Octavia has collected some flowers and put them down on Atom's grave, and I walk away to give her some privacy. Right around the corner, I find Wells, lying in a pool of his own blood. And it takes a moment to sink in. The shock of it takes over me.

''Oh, my God. Octavia,'' is all I can say, or merely breathe out.

''What? What is it?'' I hear her steps coming closer as I stand there, petrified.

''Oh, my God,'' she says, echoing my words, terrified beyond belief, and I check Wells's pulse even though I know he's dead, he's cold, all of his blood has seeped out of him, he's done.

''We need to tell Bellamy,'' she says.

''Wait,'' I stop her. Right in the pool of remaining blood that hasn't yet soaked into the earth, lies a knife. I pull it out as my skin crawls at the touch of Wells's thick blood. I feel light-headed.

''He was murdered,'' I breathe, the words sounding foreign to me, ''We need to alarm the whole camp.''


	7. Chapter 7

We've decided against alarming the whole camp. We have to do this smart, because if there is a murderer among us, best not let him know that we know anything. So the next day, as we bury Wells, the official story in camp is that Grounders have got to him.

Those four graves have to be the most depressing thing I've ever seen.

''We should tell Bellamy first,'' Octavia tells me, restless, antsy, scared. I'm not exactly at peace myself, either.

''I don't know,'' I reply honestly, ''Bellamy's impulsive, who knows what he would do. Maybe Clarke?''

''Clarke's worse,'' she argues, ''She'd announce some public trial or something.''

''Right.'' 

Octavia has a point. Clarke holds her morals before everything. She'd be even worse than Bellamy.

But one thing is for sure - we need to find the killer among us, and extract him. Although Wells wasn't a favorite of the camp, none of us is safe at the moment. And it's been a couple of days now already.

''I'll be with Jasper,'' she tells me before she slips away, ''Just tell me when you figure it out.''

Right. Figure it out. 

I watch as the whole camp is hard at work, building walls as strong as we could construct. I see Bellamy joke around with little Charlotte as she tries to find something to do to help. It makes me smile, in spite of everything. It isn't easy finding things to smile at these days.

I can't believe what I'm doing as my feet lead me to Bellamy. Just a few days ago, I wouldn't have trusted him with a bag of berries. Now, I'm thinking he's a better choice than Clarke for dealing with a problem of this magnitude.

''Hey, Bellamy. I need to talk to you.''

He turns from the wall to face me, sweaty from hard work and the sun burning down, strands of hair sticking to his forehead.

''What's up?''

''In private.''

He nods in understanding and follows me. 

''Where's your wristband?'' he asks as we walk.

''Oh,'' I look down at my naked wrist, ''Dead. Sacrificed for the greater good.''

''Monty's still at it, huh.''

I gave up the wristband yesterday. The only way I would have given it up was so that Monty could try and do his thing to try and communicate with the Ark. I felt like utter shit when it got fried, knowing that my parents must be crushed thinking I'm dead, but we had to do all we could. I couldn't stop thinking about mom and dad the entire day. It even took my mind off the damn murder in the damn camp.

''Look, I need to tell you something,'' I face Bellamy the moment we're far enough.

''What?'' he aska, fists on his hips, slightly worried by the solemn tone of my voice and look on my face.

''Wells. He wasn't killed by Grounders.''

''What do you mean?''

''I found a knife. Our knife.''

''And you didn't tell anyone?''

''No. Well, Octavia knows. Figured we should keep it down until we figure out who it is. And I didn't know who to tell first.''

''It's good you came to me.''

''Clarke deserves to know,'' I say, ''He was her friend.''

''Yeah, but we need to keep this thing on the low.''

''Right,'' I say, ''I'll get the knife, you get Clarke.''

''Meet us in my tent.''

I slip out, making sure no one sees me go. I find the spot quickly enough, and dig out the knife I'd buried. For the first time since the whole thing, I get to actually take a look at it.

It's dirty and muddied and some of the blood remains crusted over the blade. It looks like any other knife in camp, except that this one has initials carved in.

_J. M._

''Shit.''

Just because it's his doesn't mean he did it, I tell myself. And it's not comfort, it's the truth. Even so, I know John is the perfect one to accuse. His conflicts with Wells aside, he's made it so easy for everyone to think he'd be capable of doing this. And maybe he is, by what I've heard about him and Jasper. I don't know anymore. I don't know _him_ anymore.

I feel like puking. He could have done it. He could have very well done it. But it also could have been anyone else. And I know, I just know that they will accuse him immediately no matter what. I feel like puking because of this discovery. I feel like puking because somehow I still care about what happens to John Murphy.

There is nothing I could do. If it's him, then he deserves punishment. But if it isn't him, and I could help him, save him by erasing these initials... No. No, I can't. Maybe it is him. _Whatever happens, happens._ I take a deep breath and calm down and get up and carry the knife back to camp.

I find them in Bellamy's camp, Octavia too, as I bring back the evidence. Clarke doesn't take the whole thing very well.

''We have a murderer among us!'' she almost shouts.

''There's more than one murderer in this camp,'' Bellamy reasons, ''This isn't news. We need to keep it quiet.''

''Get out of my way, Bellamy,'' she tries to get out and blow the whole thing.

''Clarke, stop,'' I grab her arm.

''Clarke, be smart about this. Look at what we've achieved - the wall, the patrols. Like it or not, thinking the Grounders killed Wells is good for us,'' Bellamy explains.

''Bellamy, we can't sleep with whoever did that among us, either,'' I argue.

''Good for us?!'' Clarke is losing it, ''Oh, good for you, you mean! What?! Keep people afraid and they'll work for you?! Is that it?!''

''Yeah. That's it. But it's good for all of us. Fear of the Grounders is building that wall. And besides, what are you gonna do - just walk out there and ask the killer to step forward?! You don't even know whose knife that is!''

''Oh, really? J.M. John Murphy. The people have a right to know.''

Exactly what I feared.

''Clarke, that doesn't mean any-''

But she's shoved her way out before I can say it. ''Fuck,'' Bellamy curses, before we all run after her.

''You son of a bitch!'' she screams at Murphy.

''What's your problem?!''

''Recognize this?'' she whips out the knife.

''It's my knife. Where'd you find it?'' he asks, sounding genuinely oblivious and a bit surprised.

''Where you dropped it after you killed Wells.''

''Where I what?! The Grounders killed Wells, not me.''

''I know what you did, and you're gonna pay for it.''

''Clarke, stop, we don't know-,'' I try, but no one is actually interested in logic and reason.

''Really?!'' Murphy looks ready to laugh, ''Bellamy, you really believe this crap?!''

''You threatened to kill him,'' Clarke says, ''We all heard you. You hated Wells.''

''Announcing it isn't very smart if you intend to kill someone, Clarke,'' I insist. Since no one is giving him a chance at any sort of defense, someone has to bring up the damn arguments. John only looks at me, for one short moment.

''Plenty of people hated Wells,'' he says, ''His father was the Chancellor that locked us up.''

''Yeah, but you're the only one who got in a knife fight with him.''

''Yeah, I didn't kill him then, either.''

''Tried to kill Jasper, too,'' Octavia adds. I look to her, but I can't say anything to that, no matter how much I want to.

''Come on. This is ridiculous. I don't have to answer to you. I don't have to answer to anyone.''

''Come again?'' Bellamy steps up.

''Bellamy, look, I'm telling you, man. I didn't do this.'' 

He looks honest. He looked oblivious when Clarke approached him too. He could have done it, yes, he could have, but this is wrong, and it's about to get very out of hand, and the civilized thing to do would be to perform some sort of fair trial. Not this.

''Tasha found the knife right in the pool of his blood,'' Bellamy growls. Murphy looks at me again, but this time like I'm some sort of traitor, like I'd thrust a knife in his back when he didn't deserve it. What could I do?! What could I have done?!

''Is this the kind of society that we want?!'' Clarke speaks up, ''You say there should be no rules. Does that mean that we can kill each other without- without punishment?!''

''I already told you. I didn't kill anyone.''

''I say we float him,'' Octavia suggested.

''Octavia!'' I all but scream, as the delinquents start agreeing through the crowd. This is getting very wrong very fast.

''That's not what I'm saying,'' Clarke reasons.

''Why not?'' Octavia insists, ''He deserves to float. It's justice.''

''You're talking like this is definite. You haven't proved anything, none of you!'' I shout, ''I say we give him a fair trial.''

Clarke doesn't believe he deserves a fair trial, but she nods anyway and says: ''And revenge wouldn't be justice.''

But Octavia is all up in a rage. ''It's justice! Float him!''

''This isn't the fucking Ark!'' I scream, but it doesn't matter.

All hell breaks loose. The crowd is on Murphy, beating him, pulling him, and we try to stop it, screaming at them to stop it, Clarke trying to get to Murphy herself through the crowd that has enveloped her too, but it doesn't matter. They've managed to put a damn noose around his neck and tie it to a tree. Whatever John is standing on isn't very stable and I realize my eyes are blurry with tears and I'm shaking in fear.

''You can stop this, they'll listen to you,'' Clarke tells Bellamy, but he just stands there and watches, and I can't believe he can do that, I can't believe all of these people can do this so easily. And I'm not even sure if he's done it or not. That's beside the point. If he's a killer, what are we? What kind of savagery is this? Will I be able to fall asleep in this camp ever again? Knowing I'm surrounded by people capable of _this_?

''Bellamy!'' Myles calls out, ''You should do it!'' And the crowd starts cheering ''BELLAMY! BELLAMY! BELLAMY!''

''I saw you in the woods with Atom,'' Clarke still tries, ''I know you're not a killer.''

''Bellamy, don't do this. Don't…,'' you can barely hear Murphy beg through the crowd. He looks so helpless and scared, I feel on the brink of puking again.

Bellamy steps forward, encouraged by the crowd.

''Bellamy, no! Don't! Stop!'' I scream, pull on his arm, but he tears himself away.

''You can't do this, Bellamy!'' Clarke tries the same, but he's furious now, and he just steps up to Murphy and kicks that crate from under him like it's the easiest thing in the world. ''This is on you, princess! You should have kept your mouth shut!'' I may have screamed. I don't know. I don't hear myself. Or anyone. All I know is I have my knife out and I am fighting my way through that rabid crowd thinking, no, this isn't on Clarke, this is on me, this is on me.

At some point I see Finn, fighting through, trying to help me, and we're so close, so close to Murphy before they have our hands on us, and I kick and bite, and fight but there is no time, John is hanging, wiggling, dying.

''Stop, okay?!'' Charlotte cries out through the crowd, and it makes the noise settle down a bit, ''Murphy didn't kill Wells! I did!''

They let me go, but Clarke has already run up and cut John down with an axe and now it's just me and Finn untying him, and John just sits there, shaking, coughing, trying to breathe. I don't realize I'm crying, at all.

Finn has thrown the rope away as far as he possibly could have. John isn't calming. There is commotion everywhere. I've shut it out. There is just me and him now, and my hand touching his neck and me saying ''I'm sorry, I'm so sorry'' but he flinches away from my touch when my fingers ghost over his skin and I remember saying ''This is all my fault, this is all on me'' and he doesn't say anything, he just sits there, and I try to touch him again but before I can place my fingers anywhere, he's already taken my hand and clutched it to his chest. It lasts a moment, one eternity long moment that seems to bring us back to the Ark before either of us were locked up and we were carefree and happy and safe and loved. But his hands are cold. And his voice is cold when he speaks for the first time.

''I'm fixing this,'' he croaks.

He's back up on his feet soon enough, back to his good ol' self, vicious, bloodthirsty, demanding justice, demanding Charlotte, his buddies backing him up. And I can't do it. Not anymore. Clarke and Bellamy must have already hidden her away, but I can't see a way out of this. I don't want a child to die either. Nor could she remain among us, unstable as she is.

''Come on,'' Finn takes my hand, his fingers interlacing with mine, and it gives me some sort of strength as he leads me away from it all, and I think - there's no going back from this. None of us. Especially Murphy. Murphy's gone for good now. But we're here. Finn is here, now. 

I don't realize where we're going until we're there, with Bellamy and Clarke and Charlotte in the big tent, trying to figure out this whole thing. They're arguing. I sit on the ground. I'm out. Out of strength, out of possibilities. Out of all of this. I don't have it in me to see this thing through.

''Bring the girl out, Bellamy!'' Murphy demands, his voice booming from the outside now.

''Please don't let them hurt me,'' Charlotte cries

''If you guys have any bright ideas, speak up,'' Bellamy argues, ''Now you stay quiet!''

''Those are your boys out there!'' Finn says.

''This is not my fault. If she had listened to me, those idiots would still be building the wall.''

Arguing isn't going to stop Murphy. His voice is booming through the air again, taunting. 

''No! Please, Bellamy,'' Charlotte begs.

''Charlotte, hey, it's gonna be okay,'' Bellamy assures her before he leaves, ''Just stay with them.''

While Bellamy is trying to deal with Murphy outside, Finn and Clarke are trying to figure out how to slip away with Charlotte. I'm out, they'd have to do it without me.

''T, you're bleeding,'' Finn says.

''Huh?''

I haven't noticed the blood trickling from my palm, but at least it's from my left palm. I must have cut myself on my own knife in all that commotion.

''I'm fine.''

''Here,'' Finn rips the lower edge of his shirt and winds the strip around my hand.

''I'm sorry,'' Charlotte cries again.

''It's okay, Charlotte,'' I say, but my voice is flat and empty, not sounding like I mean it, because I don't mean it, ''It's okay.''

''Finn, they're fighting,'' Clarke announced after she took a peek outside, ''We have to do this now.''

''Be careful,'' I tell them, and in a moment they're gone.

I sit there, looking at my hand, at the blue of Finn's shirt getting darker with some of my blood soaking in. The way Wells's blood had soaked the earth. Four graves. How many more of us? Who's next? 

The Earth was never a problem. It's us. Humans. We're not survivable.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha makes peace with the dark sides of them all. Or is it that easy?

The calm returns to camp - after a while everyone has gone back to their tasks like everything is back to okay. But nothing is okay. Finn, Bellamy, Clarke and Charlotte are out there, with Murphy and his entire clique after them. Monty has fried all of our wristbands with his final attempt to contact the Ark. Now they think we're all dead.

Nothing is okay.

When Bellamy returns, with the boys that had followed Murphy, night has already fallen. Neither Murphy nor Charlotte are among them. The explanation they give us isn't much different than what I'd assumed would happen. I'm glad Finn, Bellamy, and Clarke have come out okay, at least; though I can barely look at Bellamy. Clarke has apparently pushed him to enforcing some ground rules around the camp, though, so that's good, at least. He's announcing them and all, and I can't really listen to that crap, so I haul ass to the upper level of the Drop-Ship, just wanting to be alone. Sitting in Monty's company while he works is the closest thing to being alone. I never even noticed Jasper in the other corner, sitting in the exact same way I do, except there is a dumb smile plastered on his face, whereas a frown is creasing mine.

''What are _you_ smiling about?'' He looks stupefied.

''Octavia kissed him,'' Monty replies, throwing one of the wristbands at the wall.

''At least someone's had a good evening.''

I've never felt so alone, like on this night. Wells is dead, Murphy is gone, Charlotte is dead, Finn is out of camp, Bellamy I can't even look at, and I can't help being angry at Octavia. None of these people were ever my friends by your usual definition of friendship, but they were something, and I feel so alone and I sleep through the entire night on the upper level of the Drop-Ship, while Monty works. When I wake up, he's still snoring softly, head down against the makeshift desk.

The morning is fresh, the day bright, the weather perfect. Like nothing is wrong with the world. People are just waking up, getting to their tasks. I see Octavia on the other side of the camp - she looks like she's making her way toward me. I understand I'm still under the influence of everything that has happened with Murphy, and I still hold anger for those who helped cause the whole fiasco. I also understand it would go away eventually; I just need to chill out. So I turn around on the balls of my heels before she can get to me, hoping it isn't all too obvious.

The entire day is uneventful. The entire day, I try to avoid everyone.

The next day is a different story. In the evening, a comet burns across the sky. It's so bright it grabs the attention of everyone up on their feet. I stare in awe, until I realize it's falling a bit too fast and a bit too low for it to be a comet.

_''Woah.'' ''What is that?'' ''Did it come from the Ark?'' ''A Drop-Ship?''_

It sure looks like something of the sort.

Bellamy's tent is right on my left, in arm's reach. I stomp ahead, flap it open, because he needs to see this. I find him in bed with not one but two girls. I don't know why that makes me furious. Maybe because he's still enjoying himself after the entire trauma we've all gone through.

He sits up without waking the two girls, frowning.

''You gotta see this,'' I only say and close the tent before he can even ask.

He comes out on time to see whatever it is nearing land. He's still shirtless.

''Please tell me they brought down some shampoo,'' one of Bellamy's girls comments, now in tow. 

''Ah, yes, probably a whole crate of make-up and cosmetics just for you,'' I bite sarcastically.

''What's your problem?!''

''Calm down,'' Bellamy says in his authoritative voice, ''Jones, my tent in five,'' he orders the boy and leaves. The girl just gives me a dirty look before she walks away. So stupid.

''Hey!'' Octavia calls, catching up with me. ''You okay?''

''Yeah, I'm fine,'' I shrug off, ''Why?''

''I can tell when people are mad at me,'' she smiles, ''I don't like it, either. Especially when they're right.''

''It's nothing, Octavia, don't worry about it,'' I try to walk past, but she stops me.

''No, look, I'm sorry. I was wrong. I made a mess. I mean, Murphy was horrible but I wouldn't have wanted him to die innocent because of me.''

''He wouldn't have died because of you.''

''Well, it was me that riled everyone up.''

''It was bound to happen the moment Clarke stepped out of that tent. Or rather the moment I gave her that knife. Either way, it's on all of us.''

''So, we're cool?'' she tries a smile again, ''I could kind of use a friend around here what with all these weirdos and a control freak for a brother,'' she jokes.

''Sure, Octavia. I'm not mad, really. I'm just... stressed the hell out,'' we go on a walk, side by side, ''So much happened, like... Okay, we made a mistake, but it's not even about that. It's about what the people in this camp are capable of doing in the blink of an eye. It's scary, O. The people I might have to trust my life with, you know? 'Cause we're gonna depend on each other.''

''Sure, I get what you're saying, but that was Murphy. Murphy was an asshole, it wouldn't have been the same with just anyone else.''

''Wouldn't it? Because I'm not so sure. He was feared and respected just a few hours prior. The whole crowd changed in, like, a moment.''

''That crowd had just needed a reason all along. Trust me,'' she assures me, ''Besides, no one just trusts everyone around here. You pick a couple of people and you keep 'em close.''

''Well, I thought I could trust- never mind.''

''What? No, tell me?''

''I just can't stop seeing Bellamy kicking that crate from under Murphy. It just plays out over and over again before my eyes.''

''Tasha, look... I'm not defending him, because I know my brother can make life a living hell, but I really don't think being in his position was easy.''

''He has power over these kids,'' I argue, ''He could have stopped it, confined him until some sort of trial and decision's been made. We could have voted on it.''

''We _did_ vote on it.''

Then I realize she's right. The people had decided, not Bellamy. If Charlotte hadn't stepped up, there would have been no evidence to save John. Bellamy did what the people demanded. He was one and they were many. In spite of his inspirational power over the group, he couldn't have changed a thing from that night. Inspiring a decision is one thing, completely changing the people's minds is quite another.

I hate that I can't even hate him properly.

''Come on,'' she pulls me along, ''Let's get ready and check with Bellamy. I'm kind of excited about what we're gonna find.''

''No one's going anywhere,'' he tells us the moment we enter the tent, ''Not while it's dark. It isn't safe. We'll head out at first light. Pass the word.'' 

''Everyone for a hundred miles saw this thing come down. What if the Grounders get to it first? Bell, we should go now,'' Octavia insists.

''I said we wait until sunrise.''

Octavia and I stomp outside furiously. She goes on to pass the word. I hate being bossed around like that. Like, at least make your tone more pleasant if you're gonna give people orders. God, I am having Bellamy Blake over my fucking head.

''What are you so angry about?'' 

''I'm hungry,'' I grab Miller's apple and walk past.

''Hey!'' I hear him call in the back.

I figure I'll give Jasper some time out since I have nothing to do at the moment and everyone is getting on my nerves. I bump into Clarke and Finn returning from wherever they've been, on my way to taking over Jasper's watch duty. 

''Hey you,'' I grin, ''I'm glad to see some of us enjoying life.''

Clarke smiles and rolls her eyes, but Finn just says: ''Someone's gotta do it.''

''Did you see?'' Clarke asks.

''The thing, whatever it was? Yeah. Everyone saw it. Bellamy says we'll go check it out in the morning. Too dangerous in the dark.''

''Oh. Okay.''

I climb up the small ''watchtower'' we've made where Jasper is about to fall asleep. He has a mini heart-attack not hearing me climb up.

''God, seriously? Do you even have a shadow?'' he puts his hand on his heart dramatically, and I can't help but laugh. 

''Don't worry, Jasper, the Grounders won't get you. They liked you so much, they patched you up and let you go.''

''Not funny.''

''It is a little bit!''

''I don't know what's more rude - you laughing about my plights or you laughing with your mouth full.''

''Just kidding, dumbass,'' I nudge him gently, ''Go have some sleep. I'm up and I'm hyped. I'm taking over.''

''Okaaaay,'' he says as he starts climbing down, ''Why do I feel like I've just sold my soul to the devil?''

I laugh. ''Just go!!''

The woods around us are the complete contrast of what's going on inside our walls. On one side calm; on the other clamor. On one side darkness; on the other blazing fires. On one side plants and butterflies and wild fruits; on the other dead ground and firewood and metal and steel. Watching the woods is therapeutic. Sometimes it can be boring, but sometimes, if you really get lost in it, hours can pass and you won't even notice.

An hour must have passed since I've switched with Jasper. It's getting later in the night, and folks are finishing up with their daily work. There aren't as many people outside.

''Where's Bellamy?'' Clarke wakes me from my daze.

''What? In his tent probably.''

''I already checked. Just one of his girls in there. She said he left.''

''Probably to get his lady some shampoo,'' I joke, not even realizing I've hit the point.

''Oh my, God, that's it. He's after that pod.''

''What? No, wait, Clarke, I think he's way past his first days on Earth when he just took everything for himself. Maybe he's gone to pee somewhere.''

''I don't think he's way past anything. Come on.''

''What, where are we going?''

''After him.''

''Clarke, I'm serious, he wouldn't just- Oh.''

''What?''

''He's not after the supplies. He's after the radio.''


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The delinquents have themselves a visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Kind of a filler-in, a huge chunk of this chapter. Sorry. It only goes up from here!)

''It really is a pod.''

''Come on, let's see what's inside.''

''Careful. Might be something can still blow up. Where's Finn?''

''He'll catch up with us.''

Clarke and I go to try and open the old trash can, but the moment she gets the door open, she breathes: ''Oh, my God.''

''What is it? Oh.''

There is a girl in there, as insane as the fact has to be. She's sporting a head injury, but she's still as pretty as ever.

''Hey. Wow. Okay,'' I say as she drags herself out weakly.

In just about a moment that takes the newcomer to regain all her senses, she is twirling around and laughing like a little kid, and I grin realizing just how childish we must have looked the first day we got here. ''Welcome home,'' Clarke tells her.

''Raven?!'' Finn's voice calls out.

''Finn!!!'' The girl has run into Finn's embrace like she hasn't just head-slammed into a rock in space, and then, out of nowhere, they're kissing.

''Woah,'' I say.

I glance at Clarke, and learn all I need to from her eyes alone despite her trying not to show it. The girl is dying on the inside. I choose to pretend I don't notice, since that's what she obviously wants. Finn Collins has a lot of explaining to do, probably. 

''You and Finn,'' I only say, completely casually.

''Yeah.''

''Aaaand you had no idea.''

''Nope.''

When he introduces Raven to us, it's really downright painful to watch. Clarke is holding up well, though, even helping the new girl with her head injury and all.

''This was all because of your mom,'' Raven tells Clarke, then briefs us on everything that's been going on, how they are moving forward with culling the population up there, how we need to let them know we're okay down here as soon as possible. She gets on the radio immediately, only to find it gone. She thinks she's broken it and lost it on impact, but we know better.

''Of course!'' I throw my hands up, irritated.

We split up, but catch up to him soon enough. ''Where is it?'' Clarke demands of Bellamy. 

''Hey, princess. You taking a walk in the woods?''

''They're getting ready to kill to save oxygen! And I can guarantee you it won't be council members. It'll be working people! Your people, Bellamy. Where's the radio?'' 

''I have no idea what you're talking about.'' 

''Wait, Bellamy Blake?'' Raven asks, ''They're looking everywhere for you.''

''Looking for him why?''

''He shot Chancellor Jaha.''

''That's why you took the wristbands,'' I say. 

''Needed everyone to think we're dead. And all that "whatever the hell we want"? You just care about saving your own skin,'' Finn spits. 

''Hey! Shooter! Where's my radio?'' Raven shoves Bellamy, gets all up in his face. 

''Get out of my way. I should've killed you when I had the chance.'' 

''Really? Well, I'm right here. Where's my radio?''

''Ok, stop it, seriously!'' Finn and I intervene at the same time. Somehow at some point Raven's pulled out a knife and we do not need more of that.

''Jaha deserved to die,'' Bellamy says, ''You all know that.''

''Not my favorite person, either. But he isn't dead,'' Raven argues. 

''What?'' 

''You're a lousy shot,'' she scoffs.

''Bellamy, don't you see what this means?'' Clarke says, ''You're not a murderer. You always did what you had to do to protect your sister. That's who you are. And you can do it again, by protecting three hundred of your people.''

''Where's the radio, Bellamy?'' I ask.

''It's too late.''

*

Bellamy is eating himself up over it. He's gathered a few groups and sent them all on a search mission for the damn radio. I'm trudging through the water knees deep looking for it myself. How is it always Bellamy Blake that has us shoveling metaphorical shit?

The idea of three hundred people dying chills me to the bone, but I'm not worried about my parents. We're not privileged by any means, but we always had enough connections to get by. They'll be fine.

''Here it is!'' Jones pulls it out, waves it in the air.

''Great,'' I grumble on my way out - it's getting too late in the year for me to go around soaked in cold water.

''Can you fix it?''

''Maybe. But it'll take half a day just to dry out the components to see what's broken.'' 

''Like I said, it's too late.''

''Do you have any idea what you did? Do you even care?'' Clarke is all up on Bellamy's ass again. 

''You asked me to help. I helped.''

''Three hundred people will die today because of you.''

''Hey, give it a break, Clarke, he didn't know!'' I say. Even Clarke is getting on my damn nerves now.

''Hold up,'' Raven says, ''We don't have to talk to The Ark. We just have to let them know we're down here, right?''

''Yeah, but how?''

''I have an idea.''

*

Raven is working on the rockets, and we're working on their support. Rocket support has to be pretty damn legendary if we want the rockets to actually reach that far, so the pressure is high. This has to work.

Bellamy hasn't said a word since we got back to camp. Knowing three hundred people might die on your account had to be a lot to deal with.

''You couldn't have known,'' I tell him as we work side by side, using wire and metal from the Drop-Ship and steel and wood and rocks and other utter junk. And we have to make it not crappy. Monty is bossing us around - he is the closest thing to an engineer we have around here.

''That's only three hundred,'' he says, not looking up, ''I was ready to let them all die.''

''You were short-sighted. No, blinded. You didn't really know what you were doing.''

''That makes no difference.''

''It does now. Now you know. Now we can stop being stupid.''

''If it's too late, it makes no difference.''

''It's not. Maybe it is for the three hundred. But not for the Ark.''

He doesn't say anything to that.

A few hours later, flares are ready for launch. We all stand there, eyes on the sky, and once the flares fly up, it's magic. The hope of each and every one of us has come together and multiplied, and I don't think any of us believe in this moment - as we stare in awe - that we're too late.

Except Bellamy.

The lump he swallows as he watches the flares burn through the atmosphere, and the way his fingers are restless, and the way his lips purse, and the way he blinks - he is being torn apart on the inside. He has been a major asshole, and one would say he deserves the pain, but the fact that he's done it all for Octavia, everything since the day he got that gun and slipped into the Drop-Ship, makes me think that no, he doesn't deserve it. Because I don't know too many among us that do anything out of love for anyone. And if anything is going to save us on this god-forsaken rock in space, it's love. Because what's the point of surviving if we're just going to survive?

''Hey,'' I call to him. He looks at me, gulps again. I haven't noticed before just how beautiful he is. The way the features of his handsome face literally glimmer underneath the light of the fires, and the way his dark eyes burn with so much, reflecting the fire of the flares in the sky, and the way strands of his curls flutter in the gentle breeze. He looks so strong, but he also looks ready to break.

''It'll be okay,'' I say. He nods, as though believing, eyes trained on mine. 

And I don't even realize I'm doing it until it's done; it's so instinctive and impulsive that I don't control it - the way you don't control your breathing but it works on its own, or your heart beating, or your eyes blinking. You just don't think about it.

And I don't think when I take his hand. It seems like we both needed that, because he doesn't even have a reaction - he doesn't find it weird, he doesn't flinch, he isn't surprised. It's him that interlaces our fingers and tightens the hold, before looking back up at the sky.

It may have given him some feeble strength. It may have made me feel just one bit less alone.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Finn try to piece up the puzzle of the Grounders.

My first period on Earth is the most painful one of my life, if not the most painful of entire human existence. I wonder if the Grounders know some sort of plant I could chew on for instant menstrual pain relief. All I have is some crappy tea and someone's warm jacket over my tummy that Clarke has kept warm over the fire, as I lie curled up in a fetus position and try not to wail the way Jasper did when he was skewered by that spear.

It had started in the night and didn't let me sleep throughout. It must be the sudden change of living conditions that has me dying on this cot, and I assume it will get better as time passes and our bodies get used to the Earth. I seem to be the first girl to break the ice too. I didn't worry about this before, but now I start thinking about how many times you can wash and boil a menstrual cup for it to be sanitary again. Crap. We'll have to make some makeshift pads soon.

''Hopefully it's not this painful for all of us,'' Clarke says as she pushes back a strand of hair from my sweaty face. Hot sweat, cold sweat. Hot sweat, cold sweat. The vicious circle.

''Well, as long as we don't sync with each other,'' I joke, ''Then we're screwed.''

''Who's screwed?'' Bellamy enters the tent with Jasper in tow, ''She okay?''

''Yeah, just a bad period,'' Clarke explains.

''Look at you, still standing there. I'm surprised you haven't run off by now,'' I chuckle.

''Hey, I raised my sister,'' Bellamy argues with a smirk. He looks worried though. About us, about the Ark, about the people that could end up lying on his conscience. 

''I grew up with Monty,'' Jasper shrugs. We all look at him like he's nuts. ''Let's just say he had an over-sharing mother.''

Laughter fills the air through the tent, for the first time since an eternity ago.

''Listen,'' Bellamy speaks seriously now, ''Octavia's not in camp. She's been away a few hours now and I'm not gonna panic yet but-''

''Don't worry, Bellamy. It's Octavia, she's probably chasing butterflies again,'' Clarke says.

''Wait, when was the last time you saw her?'' I barely manage to ask.

''When she came after me. Before you did.''

''She never came back?''

''I don't know.''

''We'll give her another hour. If she's not back, we'll go look,'' Clarke said.

Bellamy nods and leaves.

''You think the flares are gonna work?'' Jasper asks.

''We can hope,'' Clarke says.

*

''Wait, I'm coming with.''

''No way, you're staying here,'' Clarke argues, ''Watch over the camp.''

''No way!'' I demand, ''If Octavia's lost out there, every eye looking matters. Besides, I'm one of the best trackers around. Can't expect Finn to do all the work.''

''You can't even stand upright.''

''Well, that's because I'm lying around thinking about it. I need to get my mind off it.''

''Alright, but we can't afford to lose more people while we're looking for her,'' Bellamy says, ''Keep close to someone at all times, don't get separated.''

''If she blacks out somewhere-''

''I won't,'' I insist.

''Hey, everybody!'' Bellamy shouts out to the camp, ''Gather around and grab a weapon! Arm up. We're not coming back without her.''

I grab my good ol' stick that I'd sharpened to a point. It isn't a spear but if it comes to it, I won't be going down without a damn fight. The knife Bellamy gave me is strapped on to my belt. I tie my hair back up in a ponytail, and the chill of the dawn not yet about to break settling on my sweaty skin almost has me shiver. The cramps seem to be already giving up now that my thoughts are elsewhere.

''Guys, guys. Come here! Did you see that? Look up there!'' someone in the crowd urges.

We look up, as a meteor shower seems to kiss the sky. ''It's so beautiful,'' someone says. I feel sick once I realize what it actually is.

''They didn't work,'' Raven says, ''They didn't see the flares.''

I wonder if any of those people is someone I actually knew.

''A meteor shower tells you that?'' Bellamy asks. And then Raven starts shouting, telling him it's all his fault, looking like she's ready to kill him, and Clarke has that dangerous calm about her that means she's ready to bite someone's head off, and it's all just a royal mess that we need none of at the moment.

''This is all on you,'' she finishes off with spite.

''He knows, okay?'' I argue back, ''Now he has to live with it. So let him.''

She doesn't say anything to that, and she looks like she's out of ideas about what else to throw at him. But this isn't something we can fix, and if there is some sort of mourning to be done, it would have to be done later.

''All I know is that my sister is out there and I'm gonna find her,'' Bellamy finally says, ''You coming or what? What are we waiting for? Move out!''

The first thing to do is find the first definitive track that belongs to Octavia. Without that, we could be searching anywhere. The key is to narrow the whole search down.

''Which way did she go back when she left?'' I ask her worried-out-of-his-skull brother.

''South, I think,'' he looks distressed, shaking his head.

''I was thinking maybe we should start from the pod, then try to follow her tracks from there.''

''Or we try to reconstruct her path toward the pod,'' Finn suggests, ''She probably went back the same way she came.''

''Finn's right, we can't waste a minute,'' Bellamy says.

''Alright. But since we have two decent trackers, we should split up.''

''Alright,'' says Bellamy, ''Tasha, you're with me. Miller, Jones, follow up close. Roma, you too. The rest of you keep to Finn.''

Every hair on my body stands up when he says ''Roma''. I really can't stand her. The feeling is apparently mutual too, seeing as she wants to jump out of her skin because Bellamy let me lead.

The first part of the search isn't a search at all, but basically placing your best bets. Luckily, after a while, it's evident that we've figure out Octavia's path. After an hour or two, the first track is found.

''Look! Over here!'' 

''What is it?''

''Right there. You see it?''

''Is that Octavia's?''

''Rope!''

One by one we rappel down the hill. A piece of cloth is stuck in the branches of the bush. Obviously Octavia's.

''Hard part's over,'' I announce, ''We have to follow up on this carefully. Let me and Finn up ahead. Stay behind us. We can't afford to ruin a single track.''

''We're not coming back without her,'' Bellamy repeats.

''If you don't follow through now, you won't be able to,'' Finn says, ''Look at those clouds. The rain will wipe out everything.''

''Okay, Jasper? Flashlight.''

He hands it to me immediately. The boy keeps as close behind us as is humanly possible, the whole time. He's really willing to go to the ends of the Earth for Octavia. Watching where we're stepping, we continue down the ravine.

''Someone else was here,'' Bellamy says before Finn or I can. The footprints are evident.

''Human prints, but huge,'' I say, thinking Grounders immediately but not daring say it, not after everything with Jasper.

''The prints are deeper that way,'' Finn says, ''He carried her,'' we conclude at the same time.

''If they took her, then we know she's alive,'' Jasper adds, ''Like when they took me.''

A shiver goes down my spine. Hopefully this is nothing like when they took him. None of us are ready for another episode of that yet. I look to Bellamy. He looks like he doesn't know what to feel first - fear or angry hatred.

''Alright, no more assumptions. Let's go,'' I say, me and Finn taking the lead again, and them following.

I don't know how long we walk. Watching the prints as closely as we do is downright dizzying, and at certain points I literally have smaller panic attacks when the prints stop over a rocky surface or a small pond before we pick them up again on the other side. It's all fine and dandy until the sun comes up, and we realize we've reached something awfully resembling a graveyard.

Someone gives a little scream, there are a few gasps, and then people announcing they're going back to camp one by one. I can't blame them as I stare at the impaled corpses that clearly mark Grounder territory. I'm not sure what is the smartest thing to do next.

''I don't speak Grounder but I'm pretty sure this means keep out,'' Finn comments.

''Not that I expected a welcome mat,'' I breathe, petrified.

''Go back if you want!'' Bellamy announces, ''My sister, my responsibility.''

''I'd go into hell to find her,'' Jasper says.

''I think we just did,'' Finn replies.

''Okay, I don't want to be here,'' I admit, ''But I don't want to leave her either. Me and Finn, you need us. But if we're gonna risk our lives in there, we best do it smart. We can't just... walk right in.''

''Well, any bright ideas? We have to follow the tracks.''

''We keep it quiet,'' Finn says, ''And I mean dead quiet. I don't wanna hear a breath.''

''Sounds good. Anyone else wants to go back, they better do it now. No shame in turning back at this point,'' Bellamy says honestly, ''Besides, we need a smaller group from here on out. Mbege, Diggs, Monroe, Roma, you staying? Alright, let's move out.''

The higher the sun is, the less scary the woods seem to be. But it also means we're a thorn in the eye, despite our trying to keep to shadows; to Grounders - if there are any around - we must shine like beacons. I wonder about them, and if they are watching us, why aren't they attacking? They don't seem interested in killing us unless we trespass, apparently. That thought makes me beyond nervous. We are now deep into their territory.

''Where's John?'' Roma asks. I turn around, I saw him behind me literally a minute ago. That's weird. How could he possibly get separated?

Roma screams. John Mbege's body seems to drop from the sky. Dead. 

Time stops. It all happens so fast, but it lasts, time stretching, slow motion. Contradictions of the mind. I look up, too slowly. Blood seems to pump through me at a sluggish speed. The trees stretch on into the heavens. They are so thick they could hide entire worlds in them. We had it all wrong since the beginning. We've been keeping our eyes on the ground, when we're supposed to be looking up to the sky.

''Trees,'' I barely whisper.

''They're up in the trees!'' Finn announces, ''Run!!!!''

And we do; the adrenaline has pumped all the blood into my legs so I can dart at the speed of light, but it's important that I know where I'm running, because I will be dizzy soon, and falling into the arms of an angry Grounder is not my best exit. I don't know how far we run until Bellamy tells us to stop. There is no telling if we've outrun them, because how do you outrun people up in trees? They could be above us right now. That thought stirs more panic in me. It's hard to breathe.

''Why are we stopping?!'' I wheeze.

''We're surrounded.''

In every direction looms a figure, just out in the distance. And there are so many of them. Every way you could possibly run, there is someone to meet you spear first.

Diggs panics. He retorts something and breaks off running and he must have activated a tripwire because the next moment he's dead, impaled on a Grounder trap. Roma panics too, and runs; but I can't move until Finn pushes me off my frozen feet. At this point, I let them lead me. I have no idea which direction we're taking or where the hell we could go. When we find Roma's body speared to a tree, I realize we're fucked, doomed, done, we're just playthings the Grounders are messing around with, they have a century on us, this is their home, we know nothing, we are children, they are beasts. 

Jasper is losing it. ''They're herding us like sheep,'' he says weakly, before he steps out and starts screaming off the top of his lungs - ''GET IT OVER WITH!!!! WE KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE!!!! COME OUT!!!!!!! JUST KILL-''

''Jasper,'' I hiss, before I literally throw myself on him to try and shut his mouth. I am not anxious to become dead meat.

Then the horn blasts.

''Oh, you've gotta be kidding me,'' I say.

''What is that?'' Monroe asks.

''Acid fog. We need to hide,'' Bellamy informs.

''The Grounders are running,'' I realize, ''Come on.''

We pull out the big tent and cover ourselves, lying on our stomachs across the cold earth. The thought of winter suddenly crosses my mind, but fleetingly.

''How long are we supposed to wait?'' Monroe asks after a while.

''I don't know. Last time me and Bellamy were stuck in that cave all night.''

''We'll just have to sit and find out,'' Finn says.

''No, we won't,'' Bellamy says, lifting up the tent, to my instant mini heart-attack, ''There's no fog.''

''What?''

''False alarm?''

We step out. Clear air.

''They're coming back!'' 

I turn to where Jasper is referring to. But it's only one person, seemingly trying to slip away.

''Now can we run?'' Monroe asks, ''He doesn't see us.'' 

''I'm going after him,'' Bellamy says. 

''And what? Kill him?'' Finn askes incredulously. 

''No. Catch him. Make him tell me where Octavia is, then kill him.''

''How do we know he's not leading us to another trap?''

''We don't.''

''I don't think he even knows we're still here,'' I say honestly.

''Let's go.''

We manage to follow the Grounder right up to his hide-out cave. The plan was to silently slip in after him, but once we're in, the Grounder is already knocked out. Octavia is, apparently, tougher than she ever seemed.

''Octavia!'' 

''Bellamy!''

''I think we should all hug it out back in camp,'' Monroe suggests, all antsy and restless.

''I agree,'' I say, ''Let's get outta here before he wakes up.''

''He's not gonna wake up,'' Bellamy starts toward him, but Octavia stops him.

''He didn't hurt me. Let's just go.''

''They started this!''

''Don't,'' Finn steps up in front of the sleeping Grounder.

''Finn, move.''

''Guys, look,'' I finally notice, the thing hanging right around the Grounder's neck, ''The horn.''

Finn turns around and looks closer too, and just as our realization is setting in that this Grounder may have just saved our lives, as unbelievable as it seems; the man has woken up, kicked me off my feet, and sent me to the ground. I fall, pain in my head, pain in my spine, hoping I didn't crack anything, hoping to not be this slow at getting back up on my feet before I'm killed like a pig. But I can't get back up on my feet. My headache is a hurricane, my vision isn't clear, my mind is trying to slip into a slumber that I do not want nor need at the moment.

I awake at the Drop-Ship, with an impossible headache but as good as new. Finn wasn't so lucky. The knife the Grounder had apparently stabbed him with is still in his side, and Clarke is panicking, and Raven is trying to fix the radio so Dr. Abby could help, and Bellamy is apparently losing his mind, before he storms outside.

''This wasn't supposed to happen,'' I breathe, looking at Finn's weak body, shaking my head in confusion and fear. How? Why? 

''Yeah, a lot of things weren't supposed to happen,'' Clarke spits, pacing around dizzyingly fast.

''Clarke, please, you're not letting me focus!'' Raven growls.

''The horn,'' I say.

''Tasha, you're incoherent. A concussion probably, you really need to rest.''

''I'm fine, Clarke. I know what I'm talking about. Finn- Finn saw it too, he knows- The Grounder-''

''Calm down,'' she grabs my arm, ''Calm down, okay? We're gonna try and help Finn, but I won't be able to do anything unless we're all calm and focused. Okay?''

I nod, my head pulsing. 

''You really should rest a couple of days. No running and all that.''

Octavia storms in before I can say anything. She's furious, and refuses to speak to anyone. Everything about this situation is confusing. We've just gone to hell and back to get her. Finn was stabbed. What was going on?!

I need water and I need air. I take a sip before I walk outside fighting the pain pulsating against my skull - carefully as Clarke reminded. I find a spot to pee and deal with my period, go over to the barrels to wash my hands and face thoroughly of everything, especially Grounder dirt. Somehow I have a feeling it was mixed with corpse ashes, and I wonder if I'll ever feel clean again.

''Hey,'' Bellamy's voice stops me as I'm returning to the Drop-Ship.

''Hey.''

''I just wanted to thank you.''

''For what?''

''For everything. For today.''

''Of course,'' I say.

''I didn't really deserve all of you risking everything... But for Octavia-''

''Bellamy. As harsh as it sounds... Those who stick together will be the only ones to survive. We can't do this any other way. Today was a lesson.''

''You saved Finn's life unintentionally,'' he smiles, changing the subject, ''If you hadn't been standing where you were, he would have struck his heart.''

''Damn,'' I frown, ''Who saved mine?''

''Jasper. Mine too.''

''Would you look at Goggles,'' I smirk appreciatively. He smiles back.

He sits down on a log next to a now extinguished fire. Dark clouds loom above. If we'd waited a day, we never would have found Octavia. Not after the weather that will ensue.

I sit down next to him, hugging my jacket closer. It's getting windy now, a promise of a storm.

''Finn and I were right about the clouds. In the end it was good that we didn't wait.''

''I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost her.''

''She proved to be pretty damn tough. I don't think you should worry about your little sister as much as you do, Bellamy,'' I smile.

''Yeah, well, it's what I do,'' he says, ''How're you feeling?''

''I'm okay. Soon as the headache stops I'll be as good as new. Clarke's nervous,'' I finally admit, ''I don't think she can help Finn.''

Before I can even realize how fearful I am, before I can even recognize there are tears stinging at the corners of my eyes, threatening to betray me, Bellamy has an arm around my shoulders. I relax, let myself lean in, try not to cry. Everything is too much.

''I should have killed him when I had the chance.''

''I don't know, Bell-''

''Then he wouldn't have hurt any of you.''

I look up only to be met with pain in his eyes. He's guilty of a lot of things, but this isn't one of those things.

''Stop,'' I say, ''Stop blaming yourself for everything.''

''But everything _is_ my fault.''

''No, it isn't. This one isn't on you. Just stop.''

''If I hadn't-''

''And if I hadn't given you that knife, we wouldn't have done what we did to Murphy. Charlotte would still be alive. You wanna play that game? Because there's a lot around here on all of us.''

He seems to not want to argue with that. He chooses to stick with silence, and looking somewhere up ahead.

''You're not such a bad guy that you make yourself out to be, Bellamy Blake,'' he turns to face me, as though he didn't expect me to say something like that.

''You don't know me,'' he turns back up ahead, saying it more to himself than to me.

''I know enough. More than I need to, actually.'' He doesn't reply to that either. I choose to use ''force'' - I place my hand on his cheek and turn him around so he looks at me.

''Hey. You there? You need to give yourself a break. If not for your own sake than for the rest of us. Because we need you, Bellamy. Now more than ever.''

He looks into my eyes. His brows furrowed, as though thinking about something. ''I need to find that Grounder. Bring him back, question him.''

''You think that's smart? Going out there again? Besides, how do you know he'll talk? Does he even understand us?''

''He'll talk.''

''Well, what if- Look, he had that horn, maybe he really did-''

''Help us?! Tasha, he almost broke your skull. Finn is dying because of him.''

''He could have thought he was defending himself-''

''Not you too,'' he groans.

''I'm just saying we should keep all the tabs open!''

''Look, you're pale as hell, you need to get back inside and rest.''

He scoops me up in his arms before I can even direct my feet anywhere. 

''Damn, did you carry me all the way back too?''

''Yeap. Jasper and O had Finn, with Monroe helping.''

''You can put me down now, I'm not unconscious,'' I smile.

''You look weak. I can't lose anyone else.''

''You won't lose me.''

He puts me down on a cot in the corner the way he'd intended to, and no one would have stopped him. He looks over Finn, dark worry creasing his face.

''Bellamy, wait,'' I stop him before he can walk away again.

''What?'' he approached.

''If you're really gonna bring that Grounder in, you can't go out in that storm.''

''We'll be quick. Be back before it even starts.''

''Just be careful, okay?''

He nods. I kiss his cheek, and the urge I feel to kiss him on the lips has left me sitting scared on that cot, wondering what the hell is wrong with me.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hard choices are made and bad things are done. But Natasha's world takes a spin in the other direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I loved writing this chapterrrrkfjdkfdf.)

The storm is ready to unleash its wrath upon us. It's as though the Earth itself is angry, irritated by the intruders, ready to wash us out off its surface if need be. The thick grey clouds collide, the rain starts pouring, and every moment that passes increases the storm's anger. Thunder. More rain. Winds that shake the earth.

We've closed off all the hatches and pulled in all the tents and everything from outside that needs to be kept safe and sound. It's our first storm on Earth, and probably not the last. We would survive. 

I'm not so sure about Finn.

Finn is still holding on, but he's so far away I fear he could leave us any second now. All I can do is sit and watch him, watch Clarke pace around nervously as Raven incessantly tries to contact the Ark. I don't know if my insides twist more because of Finn or because of Bellamy. Bellamy still hasn't returned. 

The very real possibility of Raven never reaching out to the Ark is starting to gnaw at us, and at her especially. She doesn't take a breath, not for one second. But she's visibly losing her mind. All Clarke can do is clean Finn's wound every now and then, careful not to move the knife. The anxiety of waiting to hear from someone on the other side has me dizzy all over again. 

_''This is a restricted station. Who is this? Please identify yourself.''_

I jump onto my feet so fast all of my blood slams against my skull. One hand against the wall to steady myself, I stand next to Raven. This can't be happening.

''This is Raven Reyes. I- I'm from Mecha Station. I'm transmitting from the ground. The hundred are alive. Please, you need to get Doctor Abby Griffin. Doctor Abby Griffin. Now.''

_''Hang on Raven, we're trying to boost your signal.''_

''Oh, my God,'' I breathe.

 _''Raven?''_ Dr Abby's voice sounds, making Clarke run at the radio, _''Are you there?''_

''Mom? Mom, it's me.''

_''Clarke?''_

The conversation is hectic; everyone seems to take a turn on the damn radio, even the Chancellor himself. Though there are many questions I want to ask, right now is not a good moment. Finn is dying, and the damn storm is disrupting the signal so bad, we can barely hear every third word they're saying at times.

I hate standing there, useless. I make it a point to myself to learn as much as I can from Clarke when it comes to things like this. I know the basics - CPR, dressing wounds etc. But anything more severe and I'm a girl in the Skybox - hands tied. So I just sit there and watch, try not to stand in the way, to at least stand ready if anything needs to be fetched or anything. When I want to go out with Octavia to get the canisters of Monty's nasty as hell moonshine, Clarke stops me herself. My concussion is apparently worse than she initially told me, and I really need to rest. Going out into a storm isn't exactly the calm I need. I hate it.

''Storm's getting worse,'' Clarke says, ''Monroe, close the doors.''

''But we still have people out there,'' I argue, scared of the thought of what might catch them out there in these conditions.

''Monty and Jasper still aren't back yet,'' Octavia confirms, ''Neither is Bellamy.''

''It's okay, they'll find somewhere to ride it out.''

In the meantime we manage to find wires and a needle decent enough to use on Finn, and we'd have to make do with after-care. The scariest thing about it all is the possibility of complications once Clarke actually starts working on Finn. Because we have no equipment to deal with any of that.

''Hey! They're back!'' someone announces.

Turning toward the entrance, I see Bellamy with two boys in tow dragging the body of the Grounder that attacked us. He's unconscious, and I don't like the way they drop him on the ground like he's just meat.

''The hell are you doing?'' Octavia stomps up to him.

''It's time to get some answers.''

''Oh you mean revenge.''

''I mean intel. Get him upstairs.''

They struggle to get the Grounder to the upper level - the man is bigger than the two boys together.

''Bellamy, she's right,'' Clarke tells him, but Bellamy replies with nothing but a look full of anger.

''Look, this is not who we are,'' she insists.

''It is now.''

I don't like the darkness in his face, in his voice. I know what he plans to do when he leaves Clarke with that sentence. But I also know that he's right. These people had a century on us. If we're going to stand any chance at all, we need to know things. We need to know things about _them_. 

Octavia seems to read through my silence, through the way I - of all people - didn't say anything to Bellamy Blake. Because the outrage that soon follows directed at me can match the storm outside.

''You knew about this?''

I try to ignore her - Clarke has reconnected to her mom on the radio and is going through the first steps. But the younger Blake is not one to back down.

''I can't believe you! You, of all people; you, who lifted your nose to the sky after what happened with Murphy! Like you were the saint and we were all the devil!''

''Octavia, calm down,'' I say, voice level and calm, refusing to make this worse. Especially while people are trying to work.

''I will not calm down,'' she hisses, ''Believe it or not, that man did save my life! And now my brother is going to torture him, kill him maybe, and you KNEW! And you didn't even think to stop this-''

''I _did_ think to stop this!!'' I spit back, giving in, composure lost, ''I _did_ think about the possibility of that man helping us!! You really think I could have overpowered your brother?!!''

She stands silent for a short moment, furious the way only she can be, unsure of what to say next. ''You knew and you didn't even tell anyone.''

''You know why, Octavia?! You know why, miss Over-fucking-protected?!'' - I'm losing it - ''Because I don't want another Jasper. I don't want another YOU and having to walk into a fucking SLAUGHTERHOUSE to get you. I, unlike SOME, am taking this grounder threat a little more fucking seriously. And if you really think we can go on and survive without knowing a damn thing about them or the world they all live in, suit your fucking selves. I'm not dying as hunting bait.''

I leave Octavia stunned, standing there - and not just her but pretty much everyone around remains in an awkward silence except Clarke who is trying to work - and I feel this pang of guilt immediately, as I make my way to the upper level.

''Everyone, get up here!!'' I shout, ''Clarke needs to focus!!''

''Do what she says. Come on,'' Raven claps her hands.

One by one we all cluster on the middle level. Octavia storms up to the upper level immediately. She returns barely a few minutes later, angrier than before. She sits across from me, giving me only one dirty look. The horn Finn and I saw on the Grounder and the realization I know we'd both made would not leave me alone. I don't want Bellamy to harm the man, especially if he really did help us. But we also need answers. The said man is also the reason why Clarke is now battling for Finn's life. 

What I feel for needs to be left behind. My softness needs to be left behind. If we're going to survive, we need to be just a bit more ruthless. Because the old way wasn't working.

I go to the upper level, only to find the Grounder chained up and already covered in blisters. Bellamy seems to be taking a break, a belt wound up around his hand. The two henchmen of his just stand by and stand watch. There's more sweat on Bellamy's face than the Grounder's, and he's trying to catch his breath when he sees me. I don't think this whole thing is easy for him either.

''Anything?'' I ask.

''Not a word.''

''Maybe he doesn't understand us, Bellamy.''

''He would have tried to tell us that then. But no. He won't even open his mouth.''

''Okay, but this is clearly not working.''

He walks a bit further away so he can talk to me without the rest of them hearing.

''Then what do you suggest? I don't think asking nicely is gonna work at this point.''

''I don't know, Bellamy. I don't like any of this.''

''You think I do?''

''I know you don't,'' I say.

''We found a journal,'' he says, ''He's been watching us for a while.''

''You sure?''

''Yeah. There's a picture of Octavia.''

I frown. That's creepy. ''Anything else?''

He shakes his head. ''Just vials of some herbs, something.''

''Probably medicine. Or poison. See that's the kind of knowledge we could use.''

He nods. ''If only he would talk,'' he says, ''I gave him too long a break. Go. You don't have to see this.''

''I can take it.''

''I know. But you don't have to. Go and keep an eye on Octavia for me.''

''She won't do anything stupid, not with you in here. Besides, we're not exactly on good terms.''

He frowns in question.

''She figured out I knew you would go after the Grounder. It got ugly. I kind of went off on her. I feel bad now.''

''Don't. She needs to hear it. And she won't hear it from me.''

I nod. ''I'm gonna go check on Clarke and Finn.''

As I'm making my way down the stairs, the Drop-Ship shakes so hard it almost throws me off. Both my feet and left hand have slipped off, leaving me hanging by my right hand only, but the shaking is over right away and I can grab a hold again and not fall and break my spine. It did jostle me up pretty bad though - my head is pulsing anew.

When I make it down, Clarke is working on closing Finn's wound. The knife is out.

''Thank God,'' I breathe, to which Raven just nods her head earnestly and tries her best not to cry.

''So now we just wait for him to wake up?'' I ask.

''Something like that,'' Clarke replies, a hint of fearfulness still there, ''Any news from Bellamy?''

''The Grounder won't talk. He's been watching us for a while though. Bellamy found a journal.''

Clarke scowls. ''I don't like the sound of that,'' she finishes the stitching, ''I better see what's happening up there.''

''What if we need you here?'' Raven asks.

''I'll be right back. Finn's okay now, just a bit feverish.''

A bit of an awkward silence ensues when Clarke leaves me alone with Raven; I haven't spoken to the girl much since she came, and I don't know her past introductions and Finn's explanations. I have no idea what kind of relationship she and Clarke have now, or Finn and Clarke for that matter, but I can assume Clarke isn't gaining much from the looks of things. 

''So, you and Finn go way back, huh,'' I start.

''Yeah. He's the only family I have,'' she smiles at his sleeping form, pushing back the hair from his pale, sweaty face.

''He's a great guy,'' I say honestly, ''I'm not the one to trust people easily but Finn... Well, you know. You know him better than anyone.''

''Yeah,'' she chuckles, ''He's always been the one universally liked. He has his way with people.''

''He's done so much good since we landed here, you have no idea. People as good as him... We need him.''

Just as I say that, Finn's entire body starts shaking violently, and I know he's seizing, but Clarke is all the way up and there is no time, she needs to be fast so I scream her name at the top of my lungs while Raven panics and demands to know what's happening as she fights back tears. Clarke is down in an eternity long second, it seems. When Finn finally stop seizing, I plop down against a wall. The adrenaline leaving my body always leaves me shaky, so best I sit down.

''I don't understand,'' Clarke says, ''This isn't supposed to be happening, I did everything-''

''What?'' I ask - she looks like she's seen a ghost.

''It's the knife. Finn's poisoned.''

Raven looks ready to faint.

''What do we do?'' I ask.

''We need the antidote.''

''The Grounder had some vials in his pack,'' I remember Bellamy telling me.

So Clarke and I head back up, with Octavia right on our tails, and I'm not ready to have any of her bullshit at the moment. We find the vials, ask the Grounder to tell us which one's the antidote, but the man just keeps silent, and keeps silent still as Bellamy lashes him with that belt with all the power he has in him. Clarke asks again, and again, and again, desperately, but this isn't working. Octavia cries, screams, begs them to stop.

 _''Finn! is! dying!''_ I shout at her, emphasizing every word, because whatever the fucking hell the Grounder has done for her, these are still the facts of the matter, and it's like she isn't getting it. I'm not losing a friend over her weird little crush.

Seeing that the whipping isn't working, Bellamy grabs a metal spike, looking beyond distressed and beyond all that _scared_ that Finn would really die on his watch, and he just shoves that thing through the Grounder's hand. The Grounder growls in pain, but again remains silent to questions. Clarke is losing it, Bellamy looks out of options, and I just can't believe that this man would rather suffer so much pain for Finn's death, than just give us an answer and let it be over with. Why does he - why do _they_ \- hate us so damn much? What is the death of one boy to them?

It isn't long before Raven storms up in, looking ready to murder someone. She goes up to the edge of a wall, yanks open the metal cover, and pulls out two wires that still buzz with energy.

''What are you doing?!''

''Showing him something new.''

She rubs the wires together, then electrocutes the Grounder into pure agony. He goes limp when Raven pulls back. Clarke asks him again, but he's still silent.

''Speak!!!'' I shout, panic rising up to my throat, ''Just say it!! Say it and it stops!!!''

Raven electrocutes him again crying ''He's all I have!!!!'' but still nothing happens.

Octavia staggers up ahead, and before either of us can realize, she has cut herself with the poisoned knife. ''He won't let me die,'' she says, and kneels before him, eyes begging, bleeding from her arm. The Grounder writhes, yanks on his chains, apparently disturbed and upset by what she's done. She points to vials one by one, until the Grounder nods at the right one. Clarke has snatched it and gone downstairs before you could blink, with Raven behind her. I just stand there, completely bewildered by what just happened. This Grounder - for some weird freaking reason - genuinely cares for Octavia. And Octavia was so sure of it she has just risked her damn life.

We're all stunned, but soon get ourselves to move, leaving one by one. We all need a break from this. Bellamy has put Miller and another boy on watch. The fact that we're leaving that Grounder chained up there leaves me feeling uneasy. It's as wrong as it is necessary. 

Finn wakes up not long after he and Octavia take the antidote. I almost cry when he smiles right out of his sleep. I tell him I would hug him if I wasn't so afraid I'd break something, fragile as he is. He actually manages to laugh. He's ordered not to move his ass one inch from that sorry excuse for a bed, and he promisingly complies. We all try to leave him as much space down on the lower floor, at least for the first few hours of his recovery.

I use that to radio back Dr Abby, hoping to speak in private. I don't mind Finn hearing - besides, he seems to fall back into naps every now and then. Since this whole mess started, Abby has always been close and ready to talk, so I get a reply right away. 

_''Tasha? Is that you?''_

''Yeah, the one and only.''

_''I'm glad you're alright.''_

''You too, Abby,'' I smile, ''I've had no news from up there so I wondered if you could tell me anything. My mom and dad, are they-?''

 _''They're fine,''_ she replies too soon, _''They're both fine.''_

''Did something happen?''

Pause.

''Abby.''

 _''Alycia, she... she volunteered for the culling,''_ she says, and my heart absolutely stops beating, _''She figured since she's sick... I did my all to talk her out of it, in the end it took Jaha giving the order. He demanded that all with valuable skills are not eligible to volunteer for the culling. That gave her no choice, being a teacher and a nurse.''_

''Thank God,'' I breathe. That's one law I actually appreciate.

 _''Rick is doing fine as well. Don't worry, the Parish family is perfectly intact,''_ I can practically hear her smile.

''Thank you. For everything,'' I say, knowing she knows all that I mean by ''everything''.

 _''Watch out for Clarke for me,''_ she says, _''You have to stick together.''_

''We do.''

The storm has stopped. Just as I'm about to step outside, Finn's voice gives me a heart-attack.

''I'm glad your folks are fine.''

''Jesus, Finn!! I thought you were asleep!!''

''You should be; you guys are the ones that have been up all night while I was pulling a Jasper.''

''You're welcome for that, by the way,'' I grin. He laughs.

Outside, the kids are putting the camp back together. Stuff is being fixed, clutter organized, tents put back up. I realize that our food is disappearing faster than we're storing it up, and winter is coming. Most of the people do their daily gathering and hunting, but for some of us who somehow seem to get into trouble literally every other day, that's a luxury at the moment.

My stupid, big-hearted parents. They are alright, and I cannot afford to worry about them too now, so I push thoughts of them completely aside. They are probably informed by now that I'm alive and well too, so that's great and one less thing to think about.

Bellamy Blake stands outside the walls, back leaning against the post of the gate. I fix up my hair subconsciously as though it matters, and go to him. He doesn't look okay. 

''You look like crap,'' I tell him.

''Thanks, sharpie, you're not exactly far behind either,'' he grins.

''We should all get some good sleep today. We need to get our strength back after everything.''

''Weren't you ordered to rest?''

''I feel perfectly fine now, thank you very much, '' - he smiles, maybe I'm amusing him, ''Come on. Miles and Connor are watching the Grounder, Miller and Monroe can take the other shift. The camp is being put back together. You can have a day of rest.''

''Octavia hates me,'' he says instead, ''The princess thinks I'm some kind of monster-''

''You did what you had to.''

''I told her,'' he says, ''I told them that. Who we need to be to survive-''

''They'll come around, Bellamy,'' I say, ''Each and every one of us, sooner or later. We'll be forced to. You and me, we just figured it out a bit earlier. Come inside,'' I offer a hand.

He takes it, but instead of following, he pulls me back, right into him, and kisses me.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha Parish did not come down to Earth for a boy. Her purpose was bringing her parents down. She's decided to keep it at only that.

His lips are surprisingly soft, and warm, and conveniently sweet from the berries he has to have had for dinner, and it's all too much, the taste and smell and closeness of him, and all the heat swarms through my body and infuses my cheeks and all of my senses are suddenly accelerated and I kiss back without questioning at all.

Until I question it.

_Stop._

I pull back.

_What are you doing? Assess the damn situation. I mean, you obviously have some sort of weird crush on the one that's the popular jock in every hundred year old TV show you've ever watched, and on the other hand, he's obviously just being Bellamy Blake. You wouldn't be the first nor the last to end up in his bed. That's what he wants - casual sex. And on any other day you wouldn't mind that at all. Casual sex can be great. But now you have this weird crush on him. Which complicates things. So once the sex is done you know you'll feel like crap. Don't do it, sis._

''I'm sorry, I-,'' I start, but don't know exactly what to say.

''No, um, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- you know- just-,'' he kind of stutters.

''It's okay,'' I offer a smile, ''I'm just- You're great and all but I'm just not... into that-''

''No, I get it,'' he shakes his head.

''There's another forty or something girls in this camp and most would probably jump at the opportunity so,'' I place a hand on his shoulder with a smile, ''Enjoy it, I guess?''

Just as I'm going to leave on that note, his hand clasps my arm, and he says:

''It's not like that.''

He seems almost... bashful? Maybe a tad bit regretful. His eyes are soft. He seems honest. Why? What's happening?

''Hey, I don't judge, really,'' I smile still.

''I didn't kiss you with any intentions,'' he says, ''I just kissed you.''

''Oh,'' I say. Because what in the world do you say to that? And coming from Bellamy Blake's mouth? Looking dead honest? While you have a crush gnawing at your very insides?

''I obviously shouldn't have done that, so I'm sorry,'' he says, ''I'm gonna go check on the boys.''

And then he leaves before I can really say anything and I literally just stand there stunned and stupefied, because what in the world has just happened?

Fuck. What was that?

Fuck. He genuinely just felt the urge to kiss me and he did and I made it into this completely different thing because how could I've known? Bellamy Blake doesn't just kiss because he likes a girl and keeps it at that. 

Wait, do I even know Bellamy Blake?

What have I done?

Fuck.

_Whatever. Don't think about it. You don't need this now. You don't need this stupid crush and you don't need to be thinking about whether he may like you back because who the hell cares? We're trying to survive, for fuck's sake. First things first. Grounders won't care if you like a boy once they try to turn both of you into dust._

_Besides, he doesn't like you back. That's a reach. I mean, whatever that thing that just happened meant, he's still Bellamy Blake for God's sake. It's Bellamy Blake._

I go to take a hard earned nap, but find myself thinking about Bellamy for too damn long.

The next couple of days go by surprisingly well and trouble-free. Octavia and I seem to have at least normalized our relationship. I'm not her favorite person in camp just yet but we do a lot of work together and it proves to be pacifying. Busy hands, peaceful mind.

I get to talk to my parents for a couple of minutes on a daily. Most kids with parents do, which seems to positively affect the general mood at camp. The radio works flawlessly when the weather is calm, and I get to assure mom and dad I'm safe every day, which lifts one piece of burden off my back. We even have a screen soon enough, so I can actually see them while we talk. _Thanks, Monty, Raven, and the assistants._

I don't give them too many details concerning the Grounders they've heard about. I talk about hunting and food gathering and how we're doing well and working hard and we're okay. We will surely find some shelter to ride out the winter too. We're fine. That's what I like to focus on while talking to my parents. I definitely don't want them to know the things we've already done here that would take time to wash our hands of. I don't want them to know what we did to John, and how we exiled him, and how it was my hand that brought about his demise. I don't want them to know the real story of little Charlotte, or details of any of the Grounder-induced deaths, and I don't want them to know that we're keeping a human being chained up in the Drop-Ship after torturing him horribly for hours and that I've approved of it. I don't want them to know that their beloved little daughter is now capable of certain things. Not just yet.

Bellamy and I behave like nothing has happened over the course of the few days but whatever I'd felt before he kissed me seems to have multiplied after. It's hard talking to him the way we usually did without my insides setting themselves on fire. And it isn't even because of my stupid crush. I'm just genuinely flustered and shaken by what had occurred between us - not because I like him, but because it confuses the hell out of me. I mean, I don't like him that much that I would literally be dying because of one kiss. No, that isn't what's driving me crazy - it's the not knowing of what the hell he was thinking. I hate not knowing. I hate not being in control of everything in my life. Same ol'.

The Grounder is still in our custody, and I can't see our options from here on out. Bellamy has decided not to kill him, but we can't hold him forever either. And if we released him, he would come back except this time with an army, we're pretty sure. So what can we do? Because Grounder or not, keeping a man chained up like an animal is not something that sits well with most of us. Except Miller. I feel like Nathan Miller wants revenge on spot. Maybe because it has fallen upon him to break the news to the parents of all the kids that have died. I can understand that.

Every day that passes brings colder weather. Clear, cloudless, but cold. Winter is surely coming, and our fantasies of shelter that I sung like a little bird to my parents are not going to keep us alive once it comes.

That thought makes me think of John. Is he even still alive, and if he is, would he stand a chance against winter?

''You're up,'' Monty tells me as he carries a bag of nuts past me.

''What?''

''Your dad's on the line!''

I all but run to the radio tent.

''Hey, dad,'' I grin.

 _''Hey, sweetie,''_ he replies almost as excitedly as the first day he got to talk to me, _''How's everything going?''_

''Fine. We're getting a little cold, but we're hard at work so it's keeping the blood circulating,'' I chuckle to put him at ease - I know he always worries, ''How about you? How's mom?''

 _''We're fine. Mom's fine, just really busy today,''_ he says, _''There's rumors Jaha found this emergency aid depot for you guys? Got the coordinates this morning, supposedly.''_

''Really?''

_''Maybe it's worth checking out.''_

''I haven't seen Clarke in a while now, she probably knows something. I'll let you know. But don't make mom worry, okay, dad? We'll figure something out. We're too stubborn to freeze to death, I promise.''

 _''Sure, honey. You were always a tough nut,''_ he grins, and I'm suddenly overflowing with affection. I want to hug him. The screen and the ability to see them means so much.

''We could really use your survival skills around here, dad. You're probably the only one on the Ark that could make a decent bow from scratch. A bow and arrows would come really useful right about now,'' I muse, ''Make sure you guys are the first on the next Drop-Ship, 'cause reasons.''

He laughs. _''Well, I taught you the way your grandpa taught me. Try. I gotta go, sweetie; there's other parents waiting.''_

''Okay. Bye, dad!''

_''Take care, sweetheart.''_

I think about this. The Grounders have a century on us but we still remember some things. My grandpa was born on the Ark, but his father was a Grounder. Before the war that had wiped out the human civilization, archery was supposedly just one of his hobbies. Dad always spoke of his grandfather with so much pride, about how he was a peaceful man, about how he lived as one with nature, about how he handed over that respect for the Earth to the generations to come, which explains a lot in my dad actually, knowing he's never known anything other than the Ark. Yet he loves the Earth like mad. 

We didn't exactly have a lot of expendable material on the Ark, but grandpa worked in the Factory Station, and he managed to teach dad all that his dad had taught him, including how to make a bow. When I was a kid, dad tried to teach me, but I was young, and I remember my bow was barely usable. Now I think about trying again.

Suddenly it hits me just how valuable knowledge is and how we could pay with our very lives for every bit of loss of forgotten knowledge we've allowed. Because if we had the vast survival knowledge that my great-grandfather had ironically simply as a hobby, we wouldn't be worrying about dying so much.

''Dax!!'' I shout, ''You're next!!''

The boy shuffles over to the tent, and I make my way to find Clarke.

''Hey, you guys seen Clarke?'' I ask Monty and Jasper, who are now cracking open and sorting the nuts we've gathered. And eating most of it.

''I think she took off with Bellamy,'' Jasper replies through a mouthful.

''When?''

''Like two minutes ago,'' Monty says, munching on a nut himself.

''If you guys keep on like that, we won't actually have any for the winter,'' I laugh.

''We'll all freeze to death anyway,'' Monty shrugs before Jasper throws a nut at me. I catch it just barely with my left hand and put it in my pocket, deciding not to eat it just yet.

In the Drop-Ship, Finn is still in bed, though now able to sit up a bit, and Raven is still next to him, like a nurse and a bodyguard all in one.

''Seriously, Finn. Just lying around in bed while we're busting our asses working,'' I joke, making him grin.

''Don't forget to mention being tended to by pretty ladies,'' he says.

''Well, enjoy your privilege, because you're not getting out of that bed any time soon,'' Raven smiles.

''Feeling better?''

''Yeap,'' Finn says, ''Which is exactly why I don't understand why I'm still in this bed.''

''You're not fit for work yet, Finn,'' I tell him on a more serious note, ''Your wound hasn't fully healed yet, as much as it feels like those stitches have it all together.''

''Crap, not you too.''

''He thinks Clarke and I nag him,'' Raven smiles.

''I think he deserves it,'' I laugh, ''Anyway, you guys know where Clarke and Bellamy went?''

''Some small assignment from the Ark apparently,'' Raven says, ''Clarke said it's nothing to worry about. They'll be out all day though.''

''Just the two of them? That's overly-confident.'' Finn looks like he agrees. He doesn't seem to like this one bit.

''Yeah, well. She said it's minor.''

The depot? Why would they keep it secret? Maybe to avoid the disappointment of the camp should they find the depot isn't there. I choose to comply then, and keep it a secret myself for now.

''You need any help around here?'' I ask Raven.

''No, don't worry, I can handle re-bandaging a wound,'' she smiles, ''But thanks.''

''I'll leave you two then.''

I decide to follow up on dad's advice and try to make a bow. Not counting the hour that takes me to actually pick the right branch, it takes me another three hours to actually turn it into a bow. I'm glad I still remember the steps. It turns out awkward and rough but frankly better than I expected. I make one arrow as quickly as I can just to test it, and it flies far enough, but the precision is terrible. I blame it on the unfletched arrow as much as on the bow that needs more curving to be usable. And the thin nylon rope from the Drop-Ship isn't ideal either. Not to mention I last got to shoot a bow when I was thirteen in my much earned Earth Skills special course. I wasn't exactly excellent then either.

Time flies by, and the next thing I know, the sun is down. Days are growing shorter. 

I return to a camp full of wild kids in some sort of delirium. 

It doesn't take long for me to realize they're high on something, and then that they are high on the nuts. I pull the one nut out of my pocket and look at it, as though it'll give me an answer. The camp is a mess, and clearly vulnerable, and someone needs to keep these kids safe and locked down. People are either laughing or crying or talking nonsense or dancing or in some sort of frightening trip or just blundering about. Some are even taking their clothes off, saying they're too heavy. My breaths come out as steam now that the sun is down, there is no way in hell those clothes are heavy. I don't even want to look at the couples. Luckily, I spot Octavia in front of the Drop-Ship, seemingly as sober as ever.

''You seeing this?''

''The nuts,'' she replies, looking over the camp, ''Jasper just told me he loved me and I'm pretty sure Monty thinks he's Ariel the mermaid. We need to take care of them.''

''Yeah, no kidding.''

It's kind of scary, the whole picture. Almost a hundred people completely beside themselves.

Soon enough, Raven and Finn leave their tent, also seemingly as sober as ever.

''I will assume you didn't eat the nuts.''

Raven replies to me in the form of a shake of her head with a very _what-the-fuck-is-going-on_ look on her face.

''Okay, damage control,'' Finn says, walking over toward the first patient for the night. Walking for the first time in days pretty much, except when he goes to pee.

It's a very, very long evening until the effects wear off. I end up holding Jasper's hand at some point as he cries I'm no longer sure what exactly about. Maybe Grounders. Maybe Octavia. Most likely Octavia. 

Where the hell are Bellamy and Clarke?! If Grounders attack us now, they might take pity on the pathetic sight before them. This is too much for four people to handle.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go from trippy to worse.

It is late in the night when everything comes to a complete calm. It's a relief to see some people actually sleep. Unfortunately, it doesn't really last long.

Nathan Miller's voice booms through the air of the calm and cool night as he announces the Grounder's gone. Escaped. 

The crowd panics. In less than a minute a thousand scenarios are put together, the Grounders coming back to slaughter us in each of them. None of the scenarios are impossible - in fact every single one of them is plausible - but the kids are fresh from a crazy trip, vulnerable and tired, and we don't need this mess at the moment.

I know who helped the Grounder escape too, but it doesn't matter now. Whatever happens to us next is on her, and that's that.

''Let the Grounders come!'' Bellamy's voice booms through the noise, getting everyone to listen as only he can - and I've never been more relieved to see him. One day without him and the camp is in shambles, one way or another, and as much as I hate to admit it, his presence alone is a comfort. It holds us together. I don't realize I've been worried about him - them - all day, under all these distractions.

''We've been afraid of them for far too long,'' he continues, ''And why? Because of their knives and spears. I don't know about you. I'm tired of being afraid.''

Clarke and Bellamy empty entire bags of firearms and ammunition - drop it all to the floor - to which the kids all but celebrate. A breath hitches in my throat at the sight of them - excited and scared to the bone at the same time. This changes everything. This changes _us_.

''These are weapons, okay?! Not toys,'' Clarke insists, ''And we have to be prepared to give them up to the guard when the dropships come, but until then, they're gonna help keep us safe.''

''And there are plenty more where these came from,'' Bellamy says, ''Tomorrow we start training, and if the Grounders come, we're gonna be ready to fight.''

The guns are ordered to be moved to the main tent and that nobody touch them until permission is given for training in the morning. When Finn slowly joins me, he looks less than pleased as he watches the guns being carried. I don't know how to feel. Mostly, I'm feeling everything at once.

''War destroyed us once, and now we're picking up guns again,'' he says.

''It sucks,'' I say, ''But we don't have a choice.''

''We always have a choice.''

''I don't think those people wanted anything less than killing us when they threw that spear at Jasper, Finn.''

''Wouldn't you defend your own home if someone trespassed? Wouldn't you defend this camp if it had been the other way around?''

''You really defending them now?''

''No, I'm being rational.''

''I think I'd ask questions first, shoot later,'' I reply, and I don't know why I'm suddenly getting angry - at Finn of all people, ''Which is far from what they even considered.''

I stomp away just to avoid an argument with the one person I really really care about in here, and the one person I've had smooth sailing with since we got here. I take my bow and seek solitude, to try and fix it up a bit further and maybe try to make a few more crappy arrows without fletching or a nock. 

I get too frustrated at arrow number two. The damn things won't fly properly anyway.

''Piece of shit,'' I growl as I break the arrow with such sweet satisfaction.

''Who pissed _you_ off?'' Miller asks as he sits down next to me.

''Life.''

He nods like he can relate, and we sit in silence for a while.

''You made that?'' he asks.

''Today.''

''That's... wack.''

''Shut up, Miller,'' I whine, but he laughs.

''Ehh, you can't be having a worse night than me.''

''You were high as the moon, it's not your fault,'' I say, feeling up my bow again. It isn't wack!

''We're fucking dead meat,'' he says casually like it's nothing, head back against the wall. Even though the fires are burning at camp, it's still cold where we're sitting, asses on ground and backs against metal.

''Plot twist - this guy decides not to tell on us out of his weird obsession with Octavia,'' I suggest, to which he chuckles saying ''Yeaaah, we ain't that lucky.''

''Hold this for me,'' I hand him over the bow as I see Bellamy leaving his tent. I want details on the depot, on everything they saw, and on every plan he now has sneaking through his head. I hate not being in control. I need to know.

''Any troubles today?'' I ask him as I catch up with him, though the way he walks seems like he's trying to get rid of me. 

''Nothing we couldn't handle,'' he strides on outside the camp.

''Bellamy, stop. Wait.''

''What?'' he turns around to face me. He isn't exactly angry but he looks... frustrated maybe. Irritated? I can't exactly decipher it. Pissed to an extent. But not really at me. I can't put a finger on it.

''I haven't talked to you properly in days. A lot happened today. I need to know.''

''You'll know what you need to know, when everyone else knows it as well,'' he replies coldly.

''Is that how it is? From _Thank you, Tasha, for all the support all the damn time_ to _You're just any of them_?!''

''Well I guess I was wrong because the one day I trust you with the camp, the Grounder's gone.''

I slap him so instinctively, it's done before I realize it. Then I shove him, then try to shove him again all the while growling stuff about things not being my fault and him knowing it, and next I know he has his hands around my wrists and I can't punch anymore. But God I'm so angry and I wanna bite him so hard it leaves a scar.

But then he kisses me again, and this time it's not sweet and comfortable and warm - it's hungry and wild and carnal; and I'm kissing him back and there is teeth clashing and lip biting and at one point I think I'll actually draw blood. His hands are everywhere on me, and I want to literally rip his shirt off him. This is my anger and his frustration mixed with mutual desire. My entire body is burning up; my core is on fire. I don't know how exactly we move further away from camp for some privacy.

His lips only leave mine when they're on my neck - open wet kisses and teeth and bites that hurt just enough to be pleasurable, and pretty soon this is no longer a struggle for some dominance, because I'm pretty much tamed the moment he starts sucking down that trail of hickeys I'll have to think about hiding tomorrow. He hoists my legs up to wrap around his waist and slams me against the tree as though to re-affirm it. The feel of the rough tree bark isn't the most comfortable but damn it I'm angry and hungry for him and even that pain feels good, really good - the roughness of it all. The hottest thing about it all is how much he wants me - I can feel his hardness so strong and so soon it's flattering if nothing else. _I_ am driving him nuts.

I try to mentally kick myself, but my brain isn't working at all. Articles of clothing are discarded, some just rolled up or moved out of the way, some may have ripped in places as his strong arms dealt with them - I don't care. I don't care about anything at the moment except him. I want him like nothing ever before.

When I feel his fingers - his long, strong, calloused fingers - where he should be - all of him, entirely - I lose it. I am a moaning, writhing mess. I am so embarrassingly wet and at his mercy, it's a good thing I'm not really thinking. 

And when he enters me, the feeling of him filling and stretching me, the sweet subtle pain underlying the pleasure has me seeing stars. His hands are still everywhere, his lips are still everywhere, his breath is still everywhere. How he does this to me is beyond me; but every single thing he does sets fire to every nerve in my body. 

When we both come undone, we don't part. We stay like that for a few long moments, just kissing. Why, I have no idea. The anger is gone. The frustration is gone. And when we finally do pull away, he helps me with my clothes.

And then, once we're dressed and fully back in reality, it gets a little weird.

''Well, that happened,'' I say lightly, trying to fix up my hair a bit, ''We should probably go back to camp now.''

''Unless you wanna stay a bit,'' he says, which catches me a bit off-guard.

''Umm, sure, I guess.''

So we sit there, shrouded, and the cold is setting in again now that we're not all heated up. So he spreads his legs so I can sit with my back against his chest and he can wrap his arms around me and we'll both be warm.

This is dangerous. _Very_ dangerous. Far more dangerous than any kind of sex.

But still I let myself do it, ignoring the little voice inside my head that warns me against imminent heartbreak.

And we siat there in silence for a while, calm, warm - I'm almost lulled into sleep by his breathing and heartbeat. He plays with my fingers. A knot ties in the pit of my stomach. _Very dangerous._

''We found that depot today but it's not livable,'' he says after a while, breaking the silence, ''It's pretty disgusting actually.''

''Well, at least we have the guns.''

''There's some more left, blankets and other stuff too; we couldn't carry much back just the two of us.''

''Finn and I can go next. He'll be feeling good as new soon. I'll take Miller and Harper too.''

''Dax tried to kill me today.''

''What?!?'' I almost shriek, turning around to face him. He said it so suddenly and casually too!

''I killed him instead.''

''What happened?!''

''You know how Shumway fixed me up with the dropship deal.''

''Yeah.''

''Well now he asked Dax to kill me. Promised he'd make sure his mother's on the next dropship. Wanted to clean up his mess, I guess.''

''Ark scum.''

''The good news is, Jaha pardoned me for the info.''

My grin must be wider than he's ever seen because he can't help smiling right back either. And I just slam a kiss against his lips like it's no big deal. 

''And I was ready to leave too,'' he adds against my lips.

''Like hell you're leaving us,'' I say in between happy kisses.

''I'll take that as you're happy for me,'' he chuckles almost against my lips.

I pulled back a bit, half-awkwardly. ''Yeah. Erm, sorry,'' I say, sitting back against his chest.

''Sorry? I love the way you kiss,'' he says before he kisses my neck, then again, and again, then my shoulder, and I'm turning into a pile of goo at the speed of light again, and this power he has over me is not good news.

I literally wiggle out of the situation.

''We should go. It's late and we're up for an early start tomorrow.''

He takes a moment as though to study me and my abrupt change of demeanor, before he half-reluctantly says ''Okay''.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unity Day goes terribly wrong.

Training every day. Once the basic training of actually using guns is done, hours are spent on precision only. Very quickly, the gunners stick out. Some people are just naturally more prone to it. I am among those people, though half of me hates it as much as I'm eager to do it. There's this sick part of human nature that enjoys the surge of adrenaline and feeling of power when shooting a gun. It's awesome, but it's sick, and I am aware of that, and being aware of that, I am half in love half sick to the stomach of the M16 I was given. It's not exactly the healthiest state of mind. You gotta be whole, not torn. But I'd learn that even better in times to come.

We try not to waste too many bullets in training though, and Raven does all she can to multiply the ammo. How that girl managea to work her magic, I will never fully understand. It's like she's just pulling stuff out of her ass at certain points, but of course it'd seem like that to me, because she's a damn genius, and I can hardly do basic wire reconnection. I am more than glad she was among us. 

I like Raven. She's badass. But more importantly, she's invaluable to us. 

My crappy bow has been polished up with the help of another genius of our camp - Monty really seems to be good at everything he does. He helped me make a bunch of arrows - there has to be dozens and dozens of them now - all fletched too with the feathers we plucked off the birds we've hunted down. They fly flawlessly. They don't exactly fly where I want them to, but that's me, not the bow or arrows. I set aside time to practice that as well, though it's slower progress. Shooting a gun is simply easier.

I avoid Bellamy like hell. It has to be obvious, though I try to play it natural. I'm iffy about what happened between us - sure it was great, but what now? He's over it, and I'm stuck on feelings that I don't want. So I mostly just listen to commands and only come in actual contact with him when he corrects something about my shooting. Maybe he's confused by my behavior; maybe he finds it weird or whatever, but I need to distance myself to be able to get my cool back. I need to be in control.

Not talking to Bellamy much kind of sucks though, for various reasons. One of them being that I kind of, disgustingly, miss him. I never even realized how attached I've grown to some people in the camp, until I have to be away from them. It sucks. It sucks even more because I feel like Finn sees me as the actual devil now that I'm a gunner. I really don't want to lose Finn - Finn is my person. So I just let him cool off and get used to it, because he has to know he'll have to get used to it. He doesn't have to like it. It's not like any of us really do.

The only rest we have from hard work is Unity Day. I always loved Unity days - back on the Ark they were always a big thing, though my family didn't exactly celebrate much. We'd just get together with our closest friends, have some more drinks and snacks than the usual luxuries, and we'd listen to old music and fool around and make jokes and laugh. Me and John, we always used to marathon old movies before he got locked up. I think we'd seen ''The Lord of the Rings'' a million times, to the point where we could speak the actual lines. I don't think he ever even liked it as much as I did; he mostly just watched it for me. It was our Unity Day ritual, until it all changed. The thought of this - the mere memory - makes my heart physically ache amidst all the celebration.

I'm happy to see everyone at camp having a good time, though - drinking, laughing, playing games. For one evening, the threat of Grounders seems to be buried under ground. Of course it actually looms above our heads, but everyone chooses to set it aside. For just one night.

I'm not in the greatest of moods. I miss my dad and I miss my mom and I miss our good ol' neighbor Mr Vooley and more than anything I miss our Unity Days and the way dad insisted on playing his Beatles records every year. I couldn't stand the Beatles, but I endured them when I had to, and I loved to tease my dad about them and fight him with all my might only to let him play them anyway. And I miss John. I miss John and our movie marathons though I'd already lost John before all of this. John Murphy died some time before he got locked up, and I lie if I said I haven't missed him ever since. It sucks. This Unity Day sucks, the way everyone is having a good time and the way Jasper tries to get me to play this stupid game and the way Bellamy seems to not even care I've shut him out. I mean, what was I expecting anyway?

Well, I'm lying. Everyone's having a good time except me and Nathan Miller.

''I know about me but what's put _you_ in that sour mood?'' I sit down next to him. He drinks some tea fresh off the fires. Not exactly party beverage.

''I don't wanna talk about it.''

''I get it, Grumpy. Trust me.''

''You?'' he asks.

''Unity Day.''

He nods, understanding I don't wanna get into that. This is why I like Nathan Miller. If you need a break, he'll give you a damn break.

''Yo, it's on!'' someone calls for silence as the speech is about to start. Not all of us can watch the screen, but we can listen.

 _''My friends, this is a historic Unity Day,''_ Chancellor Jaha starts, _''Every year, we mark the moment our ancestors of the twelve stations joined to form the Ark, but this is the last time we do so while aboard her. Next year, on the ground.''_

''Right,'' Miller scoffs, ''After we did all the work. Someone shut him up.''

''You shut up, Miller,'' Raven retorts, ''No one's forcing you to watch.''

_''For ninety-seven years, we have eked out an existence, hoping that someday our descendants would return to Earth. To our sons and daughters on Earth listening to this message, we will see you soon. The first Exodus ship will launch in under sixty hours, carrying you the reinforcements that you need, so stay strong. Help is on the way.''_

''First good news since we got here,'' I say.

When Jaha is done, the same old ceremony starts, the same mini theater play and the same speech and the same customs that I don't have it in me to watch at all in this moment.

''Finn,'' I walk up to him - he's been talking to Clarke thus far, ''How you feelin'?''

''Like I was never stabbed at all,'' he offers a small smile.

''That's good. We need an able peacekeeper around here,'' I smile back, giving my apology that actually says: _''I'm sorry, Finn. You have your faith, I have my gun. You're the bigger man and you can't hate me for that.''_ After days of his sourness, I think he understands and accepts it in that moment. Or maybe it's the general Unity Day atmosphere, even though he doesn't even like Unity Day much. 

''What happened?!''

''It just went off.''

''Can you fix it?''

The transmission is cut short abruptly. Raven and Monty try to fix it for about an hour until they give up, with the conclusion that the malfunction is on the Ark's side. It isn't worrisome yet, but the thought of them not coming back on line is enough to have panic rise within you. No one seems to worry though - everyone is back to celebrating soon enough, and Raven is back on making bullets.

''Well, this royally sucks,'' I say, to no one in particular, ''I need a drink.''

I grab some moonshine and bring some to Miller as well with the explanation: ''You're definitely not gonna be the only rain on this parade.'' He opens his mouth to say something, but instead takes the drink and gulps down. It tastes like razors.

''What if the Grounders come and we're drunk?'' he asks.

''Well the two of us sober ones ain't gonna make a difference,'' I smirk, knowing that Bellamy's got security covered.

''Maybe you're underestimating us,'' Miller offers a small smile before he takes another sip, and it's like freaking lightning strikes me - because Nathan freakin' Miller is making jokes! Grumpy is being chill!

''Well, this is one for the history books,'' I think out loud.

''What?''

''Nothing. Just drink up.''

Bellamy looks at me from across the camp, and I hold eye-contact for the whole of two damn seconds, before I look away. It makes me feel a certain kind of mixed way under the influence of moonshine.

''T, get up,'' Jasper approaches, ''I need you.''

''Jasper, for the last time, I'm not gonna play your stupid ass ga-''

''It's not that,'' he says, more seriously, but still trying to keep it light - that boy cannot pretend to save his life, ''Just come.''

I consider it for a second, before I hand my mug over to Miller and follow after Jasper.

''What in the world are you on this time?''

''Finn set up a meeting with the Grounders,'' he speaks as we walk away from the celebration, ''Clarke's gonna talk to their leader, discuss peace as an option. We're back up.''

''Where did this come from?!'' the news isn't less than shocking.

''Just now,'' he shrugs off.

''Why is everyone in this damn camp just doing whatever the hell they want?''

''Ask Finn.''

''I _knew_ he wouldn't sit still! Just casually watch Raven make bullets and pretend I'm not training to kill. Pretend Clarke isn't practically a lieutenant around here. He's been _planning_ this.''

''Maybe it's a good thing, you know.''

''It _is_ a good thing. But that's beside the point. I don't think it's gonna work,'' I admit.

''Gear up,'' Bellamy throws guns at me and Raven the moment we get to the tent, ''They're already out there and we can't lose them.''

''What, they don't know we're coming?!'' I ask.

''Clarke does. She'll leave a trail, which is why we need your trained eyes, just in case,'' Bellamy explains as he checks on his ammo, ''The Grounders demanded no weapons. We can't have that.''

Well, that I agree on. But I still feel like crap about doing this behind Finn's back.

We catch up with Finn and Clarke pretty soon, though we keep a safe distance behind, staying silent and skulking in the shadows. The sun has come up, and getting spotted is much easier.

The meeting takes place on a bridge, and I am only half-shocked to see Octavia there, waiting. I haven't seen much of her lately. Bellamy is visibly thrown aback, especially when the Grounder we had in custody runs up and hugs Octavia like she's the only thing that matters in the whole wide world. We all stare in awe at that particular act, hiding in the bushes below.

''I guess we know how he got away,'' Raven says, as though we really had any doubts. I assume Jasper feels like crap, though.

But then the Grounders come. Armed to the teeth. Bellamy looks ready to bite someone's head off.

''Son of a bitch,'' I spit, ''Finn, you're so naive.''

We watch the exchange in silence. It doesn't look good. Raven comments that the ''grounder princess looked pissed''. And she does. Which is bad. _Very_ bad. 

We're all jittery, nervous to the bone as we skulk in the bushes below. The riskier this is becoming, the more the adrenaline makes me restless. This is not the best state in which to hold a gun. This is one step away from trigger-happy. I let the rifle hang around my neck, removing my hands off it completely. I take a deep breath. I focus and watch.

''Oh, no,'' Jasper suddenly says, in a voice I do not like at all, ''No. This is bad.''

''What?''

''What the hell are you talking about?'' Raven asks.

''There's Grounders in the trees.''

''What?!'' I hiss.

''Where? Are you sure?'' Raven looks through the scope, ''I don't see anything.''

I follow suit. The pumping of my own blood suddenly seems too loud as I look up and hope to find nothing. When I see what Jasper has seen, I stop breathing for a whole moment that lasts forever.

''They're gonna shoot!'' Jasper alarms, ''Clarke, run! Run!''

Just as he shouts his warnings, he starts shooting, and it's all over - every chance at anything ever is thrown away and shat on. But there is no time to dwell on that; instincts take charge. Bellamy shoots the Grounder leader in the arm just as she's about to stab Clarke, and he shouts for Finn and Clarke to fall back just as we do; and we run like hell as arrows whistle past us, sometimes too close for comfort, but we dare not stop, only Jasper has the unlikely courage to shoot back and take out some of them. Heart beat too fast, legs carry me on my own; I know that the moment I stop, I'm dead. We don't stop until we're back in camp, unbelievably, stupidly lucky. And when we get there, the adrenaline is drained out of me, and I crash big time. All of us do, as we try to regain our composure and get ourselves back to normal.

''You got anything to say?!'' Clarke turns on Finn the moment we can breathe.

''Yeah. I told you no guns!''

''I told you we couldn't trust the Grounders! I was right!''

''Why didn't you tell me what you were up to?'' Raven asks him.

''I tried, but you were too busy making bullets for your gun,'' he fires back.

''You're lucky she brought that! They came there to kill you, Finn,'' Bellamy argues.

''You don't know that!''

''Finn, everyone appreciates your intentions but you have to see reality here,'' I insist, ''They think Clarke is our leader. Eliminate the leader and we're all weakened and dispersed. That's their play. That was their plan.''

''Jasper fired the first shot!'' he fights back, ''You ruined everything!''

''I saved you!'' Jasper retorts, ''You're welcome.''

''Well, if we weren't at war already, we sure as hell are now,'' Clarke concludes.

''You didn't have to trust the Grounders. You just had to trust me,'' Finn says, ''Like I said, best Unity Day ever.''

An explosion sounds through the air, tearing us away from our fight. We look up. Another comet look-a-like.

''The Exodus ship? Your mom's early,'' Bellamy says.

Breathing becomes hard as we watch the Drop-Ship fall faster and faster and I realize it's burning, it _has_ burnt to a crisp, and it's speeding up still, and there is no way in hell anyone is surviving the impact that will ensue. 

''Wait. Too fast. No parachute? Something's wrong,'' Clarke says, reading my thoughts, and then the Drop-Ship hits the ground, and a large cloud forms above where it's fallen and I know - we all know - nothing has survived that. Nothing possibly could have. 

Clarke drops to her knees and cries. I can't. I can't breathe, let alone cry. 

_My parents._

My feet are carrying me on their own when I run off toward the crash site.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasha knows the saying - ''Out of the frying pan, into the fire.'' For the first time of many, now she's living it.

''No, no, Tasha, stop. Listen. Stop!''

It's Finn that grabs me, stops me from running off into the woods mindlessly. I really don't care. I don't think. All I can think about is that Drop-Ship, and the fact that I need to be there instantly. I can't sit and wait, and I can't cry either. I can't even be around anyone anymore. So when they tell me no one's leaving camp until we've rested and recollected ourselves, I just tear off into the Drop-Ship and sit right on the hatch of the upper level hoping no one would come after me. I am suffocating.

I fall asleep soon after, somehow, curled up on a cot in the corner. Usually I can't just fall asleep without intention, but the mental and physical exhaustion must have kicked me in the ass pretty bad. And I wish didn't fall asleep when I wake up, because all I had were nightmares.

I was on the Ark again, and dad was crying because mom wasn't feeling so well, thinking I couldn't see him in their room, but the door was ajar. And I snuck right out of our place. and found my way into the medical repository as only I could; I was there for the hundredth time - I'd been there since the beginning of time and space and all existence. And the small warehouse suddenly turned huge, thousands of aisles that seemed to stretch through space, and I tried to find my way out but I couldn't, because suddenly there were guards everywhere, hundreds of them, and they were all trying to get me, and there was nowhere to run, just endless aisles everywhere that led to nowhere. And then the medicine I'd been carrying was suddenly a gun - the M16 Miller had handed me - and it was only mildly confusing because Miller didn't exist and I knew exactly how to use the gun I'd never held before in my life; and I was forced to shoot my way out - I was so scared they'd try to rape me. But it didn't matter, because they caught me anyway, covered in their blood, but they caught me, and the next thing I knew I was locked up. John Murphy was in the cell opposite of mine, and he was bruised and bloodied the way he'd been the day he left the camp, but that made no sense, because the camp didn't exist. The hanging never happened. When was he hanged? He looked at me with spite, hatred, anger. ''You betrayed me,'' he said, and suddenly I could see the marks on his throat - they burned red. ''You betrayed _me_!!'' I shouted, and then I was crying, and when I wake up my cheeks are wet. Raven is there. She has shaken me awake, a worried look marring her pretty face.

''Nightmare?'' she asks.

''Something like that,'' I sit up - I never wanted anyone to see me like this, ''When are we going?''

''Soon. Might wanna start gearing up,'' she says as she gathers up some tin cans, only to stop and look at me, ''You sure you wanna go?''

''Yeah, I'm sure. I need to see.''

She just nods in acceptance, and doesn't argue.

It takes me just a couple of minutes to eat something and get ready. The group is already formed and ready to leave, most of us armed. 

''Neither of you should go,'' Finn tells me and Clarke. I'm still in half-shock, just sort of looking through him. None of these people seem really here; I'm not really here either. I am not present in the moment. It's as though none of this is really happening; this is all just another hazy dream or nightmare. Like a hundred year old movie I'm just watching from the sidelines, not fully immersed.

''They want answers,'' Raven says, ''They deserve them.''

A hand gently lands on my shoulder as we walk through the woods. I know it's Bellamy before I turn around to see. I can by now tell apart the way all of our footsteps sound, but his closeness in particular is something I could always recognize. 

''You okay?'' he asks.

''Do I look okay?'' I say, still looking ahead and not at him, though I really just want to hug him for a few moments. Maybe it would make me feel a little better.

''No one can really tell with you,'' he admits, his hand falling back against his body. I feel the loss of it on some other level, and immediately. I think about what he said for a second and how right it is. I never show much, unless I really want to. But he still knows.

''We don't really have time to not be okay,'' I say instead of everything else I want to tell him.

It isn't a walk too long to the crash site; or maybe we've just gotten used to long hikes by now. The Drop-Ship is trash, completely destroyed. I know no one has survived that the moment I see the place - I don't have to see the burnt carcasses - but it still doesn't quite sink in. I have no real emotional reaction yet. It won't sink in for a while.

''Find me the black box, hard drives,'' Raven says, ''Anything that will explain why this ship crashed."

''Stay sharp. Grounder retaliation for what happened on the bridge is coming, just a matter of when,'' Bellamy reminds.

"Can you blame them?" Finn asks.

"No. I blame you."

''Stop it,'' I growl.

"Maybe if you didn't bring guns-"

"If we didn't bring guns, we all would've been killed,'' Raven retorts.

"Why they're coming doesn't matter anymore. It's our job to be ready when they do. We're on our own now,'' Bellamy says.

"Oh!" Clarke runs up to some sort of colored liquid leaking out of the remains of the shop, ''Rocket fuel?''

"Clarke, stop!" Raven all but screams, making Clarke freezes on spot, "Hydrazine... Highly unstable in its non-solid form. If this stuff meets fire, we're all pink mist."

''Can we use it? You know, harness it?'' I ask immediately.

"Fire in the hole!" Raven shouts in reply, throwing some of the stuff further away, creating an explosion to demonstrate. 

"We need to clear the area,'' she says.

Most of the remains of the Drop-Ship are practically unapproachable. It's pretty dangerous to even move around them, and we barely goet to take even scrapes out. Those who died in it have turned to pieces and dust, never to be buried. That thought doesn't exactly sink in either. Neither does it sink in for Clarke apparently, but at least she's cried it out. I know my state of shock will have some pretty bad aftermath. I want to say something to Clarke, but I don't know what, and I don't dare. 

"Okay, then,'' Bellamy calls, ''We move in formation, no straggling, weapons hot. We got to get back before dark."

''I gotta pee first,'' I announce, making my way to the denser forest.

''Don't go too far.''

I don't go too far, but I can't exactly pee with the rest of the group in sight and earshot. I just can't pee when I know others could hear me, it's a mental thing of mine more than anything. And the moment I find the spot is the moment I regret it.

How much bad luck can one person possibly have? Am I cursed? Because I've barely thought about undoing my pants when I hear it. A sound. Maybe an animal. Maybe not. But suddenly, I am alarmed.

Sounds again. Not exactly footsteps, but something alike. I can't pinpoint the direction. It's as though this forest reflects sound in a weird way. Or there are more of these things, whatever they are. Grounders maybe, my mind tells me. I hold my breath, stand in place, and scan around. Nothing.

But I can hear it again every once in a while, and I can sense movement in the apparent silence. Somewhere in the darkest corners of my peripheral vision something stirs too, and every instinct of mine screams Grounders - they could have been watching us all day, preying on us, stalking and skulking in the trees. I certainly feel like I'm being watched. Adrenaline kicks in, nervousness stirs in the pit of my stomach, my hands get a bit sweaty on the rifle. My legs are ready to tear off.

I look up. I see a squirrel. I turn around full circle, M16 still firmly in hands, scanning the trees before I can run back and tell the rest that there might be something around other than squirrels. Just a damn heads up. But when I hear that same sound again, everything suddenly goes black.

I wake up gagged and tied up, headache bursting through my skull, and alarmed to the bone, if not scared. The shock of the situation doesn't allow fear to sink in, but every nerve in me is alerted - I am not supposed to be here. It looks like a small shack with a dirt floor that I lie on, and there is only one guard at the door, unmistakably Grounder. 

How much of an insignificant threat do they think me if they've put only one man to guard me? The thought makes me realize they have my M16. Panic shoots through me instantly, and my reaction to it alerts the Grounder to my being awake. He tells me something in a language I don't understand, but by the threatening tone I can assume he's telling me not to try anything stupid and stay still. There isn't even anything I can use to cut my hands loose. It's just a squalid shack with a makeshift chair they didn't even bother to place me on.

The sun is still up, I realize, so this particular camp can't be too far away from the crash site. I wonder if Bellamy and the rest are looking for me, and though half of me hopes they are and would come save me from whatever is about to happen to me, the other half of me wants them to run as far freaking away as possible. 

The Grounder at the door is huge, and I barely register all of his facial features in the shadow which he forms, but I am pretty sure I could take him if I still had my knife on me. He doesn't think me a threat at all, his guard is completely down, the way he allows me the view of his broad back most of the time. He stands almost taller than the damn door. 

Then a woman appears, dressed much like the Grounder Princess that tried to stab Clarke on the bridge the other day. Her hair is blonde as well, though much shorter and lighter. The war paint on her face is painted on in a different fashion. An authority figure for sure, as she is followed by a couple of male warriors, each as big and burly as the one at the door. She says something to my guard before she walks away, and he only nods curtly before he comes and grabs me roughly off the floor. There is no point in fighting him, hands and feet tied, and even the smallest wiggle makes my headache a hundred times worse. They slammed me pretty bad. 

There are a couple of long wooden posts stuck in the earth. I am to be tied to one. The moment they let my hands loose only to tie them again is a moment I instinctively use to try something stupid. I stand no chance, of course, and only get a slap in the face so hard I almost black out again. The pain that shoots through my head is enough to make me scream. They remove the rag in my mouth. Both relief and pain are released in my strained jaw. My hands are tied again, behind the post now, and I can taste blood in my mouth as I sit on the dirt, looking over the camp. 

People come and people go, but there has to be dozens of Grounders, I realize, all under command of the woman that decides to indulge me with her presence after what seems like decades of waiting. She commands something else in her language - looking as cold as a person can look, like I am just some nuisance that has to be gotten out of the way - before a couple of men seem to be carrying someone else in. Another prisoner, I realize, and that's when fear really hits me - is it Bellamy? Is it Finn? Did they get them?

As much as I strain myself to see, panic making it hard for me to breathe, I can't see anything until they've thrown the prisoner down against the post across from me. They don't even bother tying him up, the boy is so beaten down and weak there isn't really anything he could try.

''John?''

He looks like he only barely hears me. But he does. And he's looking at me through slitted and beaten eyes. So beaten and bruised and bloodied and cut up I suddenly feel like I'll explode. He never deserved this. My fault. _My fault, my fault, all my fault._

''What have you done to him?''

''Your friend over here wasn't very talkative, so we had to loosen his tongue,'' the woman in command says like it's nothing at all, approaching us so very casually, ''He still keeps certain things to himself, I'm afraid. Fortunately, we have you now.''

''What will you do to him?!''

''That depends on you.''

''What do you mean?''

''He will be cut for every lie you say. He will be cut for every bit of information you keep from me. He's close to his limits as it is; I'm afraid he won't withstand much. His fate is yours to decide.''

_Again._


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John undergoes a lot of pain. So does Tasha, of a different kind.

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=33l1f1l)

''Tie him up,'' she commands, already having brandished a knife. Now he will kick for sure, so the tying is necessary. I stare at the knife that could be poisoned for all I know. Murphy can't suffer because of me again. 

And I can't give my people away either. 

Suddenly it's all too much - the not knowing what to do. I feel like my chest is about to burst; I almost want her to plunge that knife in me instead. Maybe I should have died when they knocked me out. That way no information could be leaked. Or maybe I should have just died on our way down to the ground. No one's fate would have ever depended on me then. 

But I am here. Alive, kicking, when maybe more skilled kids than me have died. For the first time since we got here, I wonder if that's a blessing or a curse.

The woman in command crouches down next to Murphy, fiddling with her blade a little bit, taunting. He barely reacts to it at all, like he's just used to the torture. I, on the other hand, want that blade as far away from him as possible.

''You came as a hundred. There's less of you now,'' she starts.

''Yes.''

''But more will come. How many?''

''There's thousands up on the Ark, but not all of them can come. Population has been culled-,'' I start, realizing she might not even understand these terms I'm using, ''We found that out, we're not in full numbers-,'' I speak as composedly as I can, but I still sound hectic.

''Are you sure?'' she touches Murphy's neck with the tip of her blade.

''Absolutely,'' I swallow, speak more firmly now, ''A ship dropped yesterday, you saw it yourselves. There were no survivors. We're alone. We have no communication with our people up there.''

Better to think we have nothing against them and have them underrate us, that's my logic. I hope I'm right. The woman's blade presses a bit harder against Murphy's skin, and I try not to look deterred, but I still let out a breath I didn't know I was holding when she moves the blade away, looking just a tad disappointed.

''You invaded. You set villages on fire. Why?''

''We didn't mean to-''

 _Wrong._ The woman slashes Murphy's arm and blood pours out of a fresh cut. He barely snarls in pain. Half-used to it. I must have shouted ''no'', I must have pulled at my ties, done something in the rise of my panic. But nothing stops her. In her mind it's a lie.

''I'm telling you the truth!''

''No one does what you did for nothing!'' 

''When we came down to see if the Earth was survivable we never meant to invade anyone's land. We just wanted to live. _You_ attacked first. _You_ sent a spear right into my friend's chest.''

 _Wrong again._ She makes another cut below the elbow this time. She's just getting started, and she would move on from the arm, and if she started cutting any deeper, he would be bleeding out soon, and this is not going well at all and I haved no idea how to stop it.

''Stop!'' I cry out, ''I'm not lying!''

She doesn't stop until she's finished with the cut. Murphy growls louder this time. When she's done, she looks at me again, cleaning the blade on her sleeve like it's the easiest thing in the world. Murphy looks at me from time to time, but mostly he doesn't have the strength to keep his eyes open.

''Why you?'' she asks, ''All young ones. We've seen no elders.''

''We were... outlaws. Exiled. They wanted to test the ground with us. Expendable.''

My eyes fall on the blade immediately. It doesn't move. She believes that.

''Do you have trained warriors among you?'' she asks, ''On ground and sky?''

I dare not tell her we've been training, and I dare not tell her we have guards on the Ark. I don't know what Murphy's already told her. I need to make this half-lie sound like truth.

''If we were warriors, you think we'd both be tied down here at your mercy?''

She squints a bit, studies me, considers what I've said. My heart beats faster in expectation. She isn't moving yet.

''Then you're incredibly stupid to take up a fight against us.''

''We never meant to.''

''You meant to. You just didn't know what you were dealing with yet. Now that you do, you want out. A little too late for that.''

''We just wanted to live, in peace.''

''Is that why you shot at my people when we came in good faith?''

''In good faith! You said no weapons, but you brought them anyway! There were archers up in the trees! There was never good faith! You wanted to kill Clarke!''

 _Wrong._ This time she cuts across John's ribs. He cries out as blood soaks his shirt.

''No, please! Stop! Just stop! I'm telling you everything! Just ask!''

''Your weapons,'' she continues once she's done, wiping the blade clean again, ''We saw their power. We saw how they made the blood of my people soak the earth and the water. How many do you have?''

''Not many,'' I reply maybe a little too fast - and it's true, I just want her to think we have even less than the truth.

''How many?''

''I don't know-''

She moves to cut.

''I really don't know, forty guns maybe!!! I don't know!!!!''

We have to have at least fifty, but the blade stops right as it touches John's stomach. Our eyes meet, mine full of tears that wouldn't fall and his empty of everything. 

''That's enough to kill us all,'' she says through her teeth.

''Not when we don't have enough ammunition.''

She watches me again and considers, and it seems to last forever. I look right back at her, trying to control my breathing and composure, trying to make her believe I'm telling the absolute truth. 

I realize the sun has come down by now, and the violet sky is barely streaked with the last dark, dying orange. It looks bloody.

The woman stands up, gives an order to two of her men, and they carry Murphy away. My heart wants to break free and break right through and out of my chest.

''Where are you taking him?!''

''We won't kill him if that's what you're worried about,'' she says to my mild surprise, ''But soon enough you might wish we had.''

*

I don't want to sleep tonight; I want to keep my eyes open for a way to escape. They had the decency to put a cot in the shack so I can sleep on it, but my hands and legs are still tied, though this time my hands are tied in the front. They figured it's impossible to sleep with your hands tied at the back, I guess; and they apparently still need me in good condition.

A different guard is assigned to me for the night, and he does not sleep. There is a knife at his belt that could cut my ties, but there is no way I am getting it off of him, and he sure as hell isn't a Lincoln and wouldn't help me himself.

But maybe I can try.

''Hey, you.''

He turns around. He's strikingly handsome, though I can't see perfectly well in the dark. The only light that reaches us is from the small fires among their tents and what little light the moon offers. In the shack, it's all darkness.

''I know you need me. You fed me and all. I'm alive.''

''Keep quiet if you want to stay that way.''

''I believe I'm under strict orders to be kept alive. I'm not stupid.''

''What do you want?''

''I can't sleep all tied up.''

''No way,'' he turns back toward outside.

''What could I possibly do, unarmed and on your watch? I just want to sleep. I haven't slept in too long.''

He looks at me again, as though considering it. He steps up, approaches me, crouches down to meet me face to face. He's literally... hot. And his beard and his hair tied back seem to just somehow add to it. His eyes are blue, piercingly blue. They shine in the dark. He is everything opposite of Bellamy - blonde, blue-eyed, a tattoo lining up one of his temples down to the cheek-bone.

''You're pretty,'' he says, ''Don't give reasons for that pretty face to get ruined.''

I don't say a word to that. I am not getting untied. And for the rest of the night, he isn't falling asleep. I try not to sleep myself, but I must have dozed off into shorter bouts throughout the hours before dawn. 

The other guard is back during the day, and he is far less pleasant. My hopes of getting untied lie with my night guard, because this one even watches me pee. And peeing in front of someone is next to impossible for me. He keeps my hands tied too, and takes my pants down himself. At first I am scared to death, but he doesn't seem interested in me in the slightest. As a matter of fact, I feel like his duty annoys him. He may be a killer, but he isn't a rapist, and he sure as hell isn't a babysitter. He pretty much just wants to be done with me.

A young girl brings me my meals. She looks like she's scared to talk to me - maybe it's forbidden. She seems sweet and innocent enough, pretty and maybe a bit skinny. She already has some braids in her hair, the kind of braids I only ever see on warriors. She can't be older than thirteen, maybe fourteen. Yet they're training her to kill already. That thought would have made me want to heave once. Now I understand it, which is royally fucked up.

We don't exactly have a feast every day back at camp, but the portions the Grounders give me are far smaller - they pretty much just give me enough to keep hunger at bay and keep me alive. If their intentions are to starve me to death, they are on a good path. 

I wonder what's happening back at camp, and if they even tried looking for me. The thought of them not even trying anything makesde me feel like utter crap. So I try not to think about that at all. Or John. I have to focus on escaping.

I'm not questioned again the next day, now that they've taken Murphy away. I've been expecting it all day, but when night comes and it's pretty clear no one is coming for me, I get pretty damn confused. What do they want with me?

''What's your name?'' I ask my hot night guard that hasn't expressed an explicit wish to kill me quite yet. 

''None of your business.''

''Don't you think the night will pass a hell of a lot faster with a little conversation?''

''We're not supposed to talk,'' he still looks ahead into the night, seated at the entrance.

''Well, I'm not gonna try and get intel from you and you sure as hell got all of mine,'' I say, ''I just wanna know your name.''

''Rand.''

''My name's Natasha.''

''I didn't ask for it.''

''It's common courtesy where I come from.''

''Where I come from we don't just burn people's villages to the ground.''

''Somehow I doubt that.''

 _Bingo._ He turns around to face me. It may not have been the smartest thing to say, but it's effective.

''I just meant... you people seem like you've known war.''

''Burning villages isn't war. It's slaughter of innocents. Farmers are no warriors.''

The way he said it... It suddenly hits me that they really believe it for truth that we've come down here just to wipe them out or something. They truly believe we're the bad guys. And I suddenly feel this pang of guilt, because if it's really true - as it apparently is - we've killed innocent people. Villages of people. How is that even possible?

''We never meant to hurt anyone,'' I say, knowing it's to no avail and it doesn't matter, ''Those flares were fired into the sky. They were not supposed to crash back down.''

''That hardly matters now,'' he says, ''Whatever your intentions, blood must have blood.''

''That doesn't solve anything.''

''It solves anger, and it solves grief.''

''It doesn't-''

''You don't get to have an opinion on our ways,'' he says, more passionately now, more personally, ''We've been here forever. My ancestors survived the worst. They nurtured earth as it nurtured them. You were not here. And you come now and claim it as home. You kill those that have survived things worse than you could ever imagine. You take land, but you've never given anything to it.''

''This is our home,'' I say, ''It's our home too. The Earth is big enough for all of us.''

''Indeed. Yet you chose to come at what's ours.''

This isn't working so well, and there is no way we're coming to an understanding at this rate. I need another tactic.

''Did you lose anyone in those villages?''

''No. My clan comes from elsewhere.''

That's good. I almost release a sigh of relief.

''I don't blame you, really. I understand why you're angry,'' I say, ''I'm just sorry it's come to this out of a pure misunderstanding. Many people will die now, which we never wanted. I wish we could have made peace.''

''We all wish for peace. We haven't known it yet.''

''Why are you holding me here? You will attack us anyway, you will kill us all. There is no way we can win this war. I'm hardly a factor in all of this.''

He pauses for a moment, as though pondering on whether to give me an answer. He takes a long, deep breath before he speaks.

''Softening the battlefield.''

''I don't understand.''

''It doesn't matter.''

''We're no warriors. I don't know what that means.''

''You can guess it, can't you?''

I can.

''How exactly are you weakening us?''

He doesn't answer. But he doesn't need to; suddenly I put it together.

''You think people will come for me? You want to scatter them? You're dead wrong. No one's coming for me, Rand. My people are smart. They know they can't afford to lose many to save one. They know they need to be united and prepared to face what's coming.''

''Your people were stupid enough to come before.''

''That was before. We know how to survive now.''

''You say no one is coming for you,'' he says, ''How does that make you feel?''

''Proud.''

It's mostly true. I am proud of how strong and how much smarter we've become. But I am also scared and alone and just a bit irrationally hurt. That doesn't matter.

''Proud or not, it doesn't matter. We attack any moment now.''

''Then let me go die with them.''

His head snaps toward me; he scowls and looks me right in the eye.

''Are you crazy?''

''Your plan's not working anyway. No one's coming. And I'm gonna die anyway, here or there. At least let me die with my people.''

I don't really think it will work, but I had to try. The pause he makes, the little frown on his handsome face that makes me think that maybe he's actually considering it, makes my heart jump.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's the wits that save a life, not the muscle.

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=2v9u7nd)

Even as it's happening, I can't believe it's happening. The fact that that had actually worked is crazy. We're making our way out of camp. The whole place is asleep, and the few people that are awake and on duty, we manage to avoid, thanks to Rand. When I go and pick up my gun that I'd eyed the entire day prior, he almost stops me, his huge hand on my arm. I know I am stretching his trust to its limits - for all he knows I could kill him and everyone in camp while they sleep. So I give the gun to him. Let him carry it until we're far enough. We don't speak in the dead silence of the night. He understands though, takes it and nods, and we move on.

''Thank you,'' I say when he hands me the gun and is about to turn back, ''How do you know I won't bring my people right back and attack before you attack us?''

''The camp won't be there first light.''

I nod. He really isn't risking anything except his own personal punishment that he told me wouldn't be anything he hasn't experienced before. He'd make it look an accident, he explained. Because if he'd let me escape on purpose, he is a dead man, no two ways about it. I don't ask for details on how he'd fix it up. That makes me feel like a terrible person, but I really want to re-join my people more than I want this particular man who helped me against all odds to stay alive. I do want him to stay alive though. I tell him as much. Which is weird, seeing as he would be coming himself to personally try and kill me and my people. 

''You shouldn't go back,'' he tells me.

''And where would I go? I'd rather die with them than live alone.''

''You should all go then. Move away somewhere.''

''How can we do that? We'd die on the way; there's no way-''

''You will die if you stay. This way you stand a chance.''

''Why do you care?''

''Because you never meant to start a war.''

He believed me. He believed the truth. That's why this whole thing worked.

''Whatever it is you believe, we don't enjoy war. Just like you, I wish it hadn't come to this,'' he continues, ''But war has started. And this is my last warning to you.''

''Thank you,'' I say again, ''Be careful on your way back.''

He nods, and in less than a couple of seconds he is lost in the shadows. I grip my rifle, suddenly aware of my aloneness in the dark night, outside in the woods. I have to move right away and put more distance between me and the Grounder camp, but it's dangerous to even walk. I would give anything for a full moon.

The dawn breaks soon enough, and then it's easier, though I'm easier to spot as well. I keep to the shadows and remain careful though. Hours have passed when I reach the vicinity of our camp. I have never been so happy to see something as I am today to see the camp in the distance, tiny to the eye. I am on the verge of tears.

There is what seems like a small scouting party outside the walls, and I recognize Bellamy and Finn among them. The sun is up, so they won't confuse me for the enemy and shoot me on spot, which is definitely good; I want to shout and run to them but I am out of strength. I don't know who saw me stumble through the woods first.

''Tasha?''

I hurry ahead, throw myself at Finn who's the closest to me, hug him so tight I could break something. Tears sting at the corners of my eyes, but I don't want to be weak.

''Are you okay?'' he asks as we pulls back, hands on my face, looking me over as though to check if I'm intact. 

''I'm fine, just a bit shaken-''

''There's blood on your head,'' Bellamy says, approaches me, outstretches his hand as though wanting to touch me but at the same time not quite sure if he should, ''You're bruised- Did they-?''

''Just a punch or two, I'm fine,'' I say, ''We need to be ready. They're coming, and they know everything-''

''How'd you escape?'' Myles asks.

''Long story, let's get inside-''

''Woah, wait,'' Finn stops me, hand on arm, ''Don't go into the Drop-Ship. There's a virus raging, a bunch of people are sick. We need to get you in a virus free tent. Come on.''

''Virus? Wha- How?''

''Murphy,'' Bellamy says.

''Murphy?!''

''He came three nights ago, on the day you disappeared. He was sick,'' Finn explains, ''Got us all coughing up blood. We've already had one casualty. Derek died on the spot.''

''Oh, my God.''

''Exactly. It's a mess around here.''

''I've _been_ with Murphy,'' I say, ''We were held hostage together. When they took him away, I... They said they wouldn't kill him but that we might wish they had.''

Bellamy curses, and some of the boys follow suit, but Finn just leads me away.

''We need to get you fixed up,'' he says.

He helps me wash my face and the wound on my head that has opened under impact. He brings me water and food too, and everyone else at camp is either sick or busy tending to the sick and guarding the camp.

''It doesn't need stitches,'' Finn says, ''Which is good because Clarke is sick as well.''

''Is she okay?''

''She seems to be storming right through it. She's been taking care of the others.''

''Finn, I sat right across from Murphy. If I don't have it by now, I won't have it at all.''

''We don't know that. Bellamy and I are not showing symptoms either, but we might yet. We've all been in contact.''

''Then you've already given it to me, if Murphy hasn't,'' I smile.

''That's not anything to smile about,'' he smiles back.

''I'm just happy to be back.''

''Are you sure you're okay? What did they do to you?''

''Not to me. To Murphy. They cut him for every lie they thought I'd said.''

He frowns, disturbed. He knows what John Murphy meant to me once. And the whole thing is disturbing even without that aspect.

''But it seems like you're not exactly part of a dying breed, peacemaker,'' I adds with a smile.

''What do you mean?''

''A Grounder helped me escape,'' I say, ''Most of them are just... they're just people, Finn. A hard people, but no less human than us. I don't think I ever understood that before. They're just... protecting their own. We burned their villages, Finn. That's fucked up.''

''It is,'' he nods.

''He told me we should try and move away somewhere. He gave me good-willed advice, Finn, that's- All of this is fucked up.''

''It is,'' he repeats, ''But you need to rest a bit now. We might need you soon.''

''Finn-''

''Hm?'' he stops right as he's about to leave the tent.

''When they took me, did you... Did anyone-''

''We searched until we were forced to go back,'' he smiles, ''And we've had scouting parties every day. Jasper was particularly vocal about searching for you. We couldn't risk going too far and getting scattered though.''

''Good. Because that was their plan. Scattering you. Weakening us.''

''Well, this virus has weakened us enough,'' he says, ''You should get some sleep. Oh, and one more thing-''

''What?''

''You and Bellamy, is there... something going on?'' he asks, squinting a bit.

''Why do you ask?'' I say, hoping he doesn't hear my heart thump right out of my chest, hoping I look genuinely somewhat surprised by the question.

''He was going crazy, bent on finding you but unable to leave the camp for too long. He was out there every waking minute. He'd go far into the woods too trying to track you down, and I couldn't leave him alone, so... I've had my fair share of Bellamy Blake these days.''

''He would have done that for anyone, all of you would.''

''Yeah, but the way he did it,'' he says, ''I'm telling you, he was going crazy. I don't know what's going on, but he cares about you. Quite a bit.''

Finn drops a bomb and just leaves me with it. I csn't deal with the war, and the camp, and Bellamy, and John, and what I've been through, and Rand, and the loss of my parents all at once. I want to disappear.

*

When I wake up, I want to help Clarke but they don't let me near, let alone in. My duty mostly consists of checking guns and watching the perimeter now. 

Another boy dies soon, but it isn't anyone I knew too well. When other kids start bleeding and collapsing though, we know the quarantine isn't exactly working.

A girl drops right next to me, bleeding out of her nose and ears, and other people follow soon after, and there is no more escaping it - I grab the girl and carry her to the Drop-Ship myself. Blood and vomit is suddenly everywhere, and people are panicking - the camp is turning into chaos at the speed of freakin' light; it takes a bullet shot into the sky to get everyone to stop screaming and running about. It is Clarke who fired it.

"This is exactly what the Grounders want. Don't you see that? They don't have to kill us if we kill each other first."

"They won't have to kill us if we all catch the virus. Get back in the damn dropship!" someone shouts.

"Not to state the obvious,'' Bellamy says, ''But your quarantine isn't working."

Just then, Clarke collapses, and Finn catches her before Raven can warn him not to touch her.

"Hey, let me go. I'm okay."

"No, you're not."

"Octavia will come back with a cure."

''There is no cure,'' Octavia announces, ''But the Grounders don't use the sickness to kill."

"Really? Tell that to them,'' Bellamy says, ''I warned you about seeing that Grounder again."

"Yeah? Well, I have a warning for you, too. The Grounders are coming... and they're attacking at first light,'' she says, before she joins Finn to help Clarke.

''First light,'' I breathe. That can't be. That is so soon. _Too_ soon. There is no way we could have prepared ourselves. And Octavia said it sounding so calm. What the hell are we gonna do?!

"How many bullets can you make by first light?" Bellamy asks Raven. Raven replies in the form of a very distressed look on her face.

''Hey you,'' I rush into a firm hug when I see Jasper - I haven't seen him since I came back. He hugs back, joking about something that has to do with me coming back badder than before.

''Finn said you were, and I quote, particularly vocal about searching for me,'' I say, ''I may not look it, but it means a lot.''

''You already did it for me,'' he shrugs.

*

"There's five to a clip. Let's go. We need to get these guns on the wall,'' Bellamy announces.

"Why just five?" Monty asks.

"We're running out of gunpowder,'' Raven replies.

"Oh, we're so dead,'' Harper whines.

"Don't worry,'' Jasper says all flirtily, ''I got your back."

''Would you look at him,'' I grin, but Monty only scoffs.

"Got something to say?" he turns on Monty, much to my surprise. What has happened while I was gone?

"Hey, guys, stay focused,'' Raven interrupts, ''We're doing good. We need as many rounds done by dawn as we can."

"It won't matter if there's no one left who can shoot,'' Finn appears with the depressing truth, ''What do we need to build a bomb?"

''A bomb?'' I frown. That sounded super weird coming out of Finn's mouth.

"Depends on what you're trying to blow up,'' Raven says.

"How about a bridge?"

"What are you talking about?" Bellamy asks.

"Murphy says he crossed a bridge on his way back here from the Grounders' camp. Sound familiar?"

"Yeah. So what?"

"So the virus is fast. He's already getting better. Blowing the bridge won't stop the attack, but the longer we can delay it, the more of us will be able to fight."

"Even if Murphy is telling the truth - and that's a big 'if' - that bridge has survived a nuclear war and ninety-seven years of weather."

''It won't survive me,'' Raven says.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sickness - the one foe you can hardly fight. Or, Tasha's life has always been tied to John's, and so it is again.

Standing there watching Raven handle the newly made bomb, in all of that mess I think of Murphy. A part of me wants to go see him, another part of me doesn't want to face him. Another irrational part of me feels guilty for what the Grounders did to him. And another part of me is simply angry that John Murphy isn't yet dead to me, not the way I want him to be.

Back on the Ark, things were both more simple and more complicated than on the ground. The concept of survival was the same, it was just that the ways of surviving were different. The fear was the same, it was just that we were afraid for slightly different reasons. I used to fear my mother dying, and my father knowing too much for his own good. I used to fear getting caught stealing medicine, or just running out of medicine. I used to fear that flu that John had caught once; I was so scared he was going to die. He didn't let me see him for the entirety of his ailment, though I constantly tried. I made sure to knock on his door every day just to be certain he was still breathing. Back on the Ark, I was afraid of a lot of things - but somehow I always knew John and I would persevere together, side by side.

Now we're this. We're both people I no longer knew, me as much as him.

"If we do this and it doesn't work, we'll all be dead tomorrow,'' Bellamy states.

''Then let's make sure it works,'' Raven says, ''To be safe, you need to be at least two hundred feet away to make the shot."

"No problem. Which one of you plants the bomb?"

"I will,'' Finn says with some hesitation. We all hesitated, but I would have done it if it needed to be me.

"You won't pick up a gun, but blowing people up, that you're okay with?" Bellamy asks him.

"We're blowing up a bridge. There's not gonna be any people on it."

"Finn, we have one bomb. We need to use it to kill as many of those bastards as possible."

"But they don't know we only have one bomb. If we did, why would we waste it on the bridge? I'm talking about deterrents, peace through strength."

"The appearance of strength, you mean,'' Raven suggests.

"Yeah."

"Men who built the A-bomb thought they were peacemakers, too. How'd that work out for them?" Bellamy says, taunting Finn, I know, and just as I am going to say something to that, I see blood. Nosebleed.

''Bellamy, you're bleeding,'' I say, petrified.

"Don't touch anything,'' Raven warns.

"Who else can take the shot?" Finn asks.

''We need to get you to the Drop-Ship,'' I ignore. He gives me the shortest look that goes right through my spine, short as it was. Then he turns back to Finn.

"Appreciate the concern. Make sure the bomb is packed and ready to go in ten minutes,'' he says, then he leaves the tent.

I follow after.

''Jasper, come here,'' he calls the other boy.

''Bellamy-''

"Hi. You need me to go with you to the bridge again?" Jasper asks, not even knowing there's anything wrong with Bellamy. He's keeping the nosebleed contained for now.

"I need you to take the shot."

"Yeah. I can do that."

So suddenly, Bellamy collapses, and I catch him so instinctively, it startles us both a bit. Jasper takes a step back. Half the camp is watching the scene by now. I put Bellamy's arm around my neck, give him some support on the back. His nose is bleeding much more now.

"Don't you have jobs to do?!" he shouts at the camp. The crowd meekly disperses.

"If you miss,'' he tells Jasper, ''If that bridge doesn't blow, we're all dead. You got that?"

''Bellamy, you have to get to Clarke right now,'' I insist.

"Hey, why me?'' Jasper asks, ''I mean, you've got twenty shooters.''

''I can try,'' I offer.

''No,'' Bellamy says.

''I'm the only one that's not sick for sure, right?" Jasper says more than asks, putting it together. He doesn't like this task at all now.

''We've all been in contact,'' I say.

"Right,'' Bellamy repeats, ''Don't miss."

''Somebody help me get him to the Drop-Ship!'' I practically growl at the crowd. Bellamy is losing strength fast and getting much heavier, and when he drops again, I can't hold him up.

''Make the shot,'' he struggles again, ''Find Finn. Go.''

By the time we get him into the Drop-Ship, he's bleeding so severely and coughing up so bad my insides are twisting and turning in fear. Octavia rushes to his side immediately, and I am told to get the hell out before my lucky ass collapses as well. I am, however, pretty sure I'm immune by now, but Clarke is the boss of this hospital ward, so I obey. In the corner of my eye, I catch Murphy helping out Connor and it takes a moment before I realize what I'm seeing. It makes me wonder if there's ever going back from what we're becoming and what we've done. Is it possible?

I step outside, sit down against the Drop-Ship and pull up my knees trying to vanquish the fear that gnaws at my stomach and take a deep breath. Bellamy would be alright. He would be alright, just like Clarke, just like John.

Jasper and Finn are ready to go, and I jump back on my feet the moment I see them. They could use back-up, and if Finn can go and keep a safe distance from Jasper than I can go too. If Jasper gets a case of cold feet, I could jump in. Besides, I can't just run around doing chores and wait for people to get better and bridges to get blown and eat myself up alive. I'll go crazy.

''Guys, I'm coming with you.''

''It's gone,'' Finn announces, peeking back out from the tent.

''What?'' I stride ahead, turn the flap open. No bomb.

''Monty! Where's Raven?" Finn asks.

"She left a while ago."

''Oh, my God.''

"The bomb. She's planting it herself."

''Come on, let's go!''

We run as fast as we can, because what the hell was she thinking?! What even was her reasoning behind all of this?! Finn runs first, then Jasper behind him with the rifle, and me a safe distance behind, following every jump and twist and turn Finn is leading us through. I can soon hear the blood thumping in my head. None of us dare even trip up, that girl is going to kill herself if we don't make it on damn time. The run seems never-ending, as heat rushes into my head and sweat literally drips off my face. Has the bridge always been this far?

''Do you hear that?" Jasper asks. It's absolutely thundering through the air. My heart skips a beat, but my legs don't let up.

"War drums,'' Finn replies.

"Oh, we're running toward the war drums? Oh, I hate this plan."

''We're close,'' I say, ''Come on, hurry!''

When we get to the bridge, Raven is lying down, barely able to wiggle, let alone move properly. And the drums are getting closer, and I scream her name, we all do, but that's to no avail, because she can't move, and my heart is beating so hard, I think it will burst. War drums. Horse hooves. They'll run her over if she doesn't get away.

"She's still building the bomb,'' Jasper realizes, and Finn jumps on his feet immediately, ''Hey, Finn, wait. No, she's got this!"

"No-"

"Raven get out of there now!" Jasper shouts, but the girl still isn't moving.

''Finn, go get her,'' I say, ''We've got the shot.''

"Line it up,'' he says, and tears off toward Raven.

I look to Jasper. He aims, gets ready, but he looks so nervous, I half-think his fingers won't be able to move properly and pull the trigger. His breathing irregular, his gulping, the way a vein pulsates on his neck - he is so close to losing it.

"Shoot,'' Finn shouts, having gotten Raven off the bridge - the Grounders are now just out of our line of vision, stepping in any moment now, ''Jasper! Shoot! Shoot!"

''Come on, you got this,'' I say.

Jasper takes a deep breath, and pulls the trigger. 

And misses. 

The Grounder army is now upon us, first of the cavalry visible through the forest on the other side. Jasper takes another shot, and misses, much to his potentially lethal frustration. He can't lose it now.

''Focus,'' I say, but my anxiety is reaching impossible levels at this point. Jasper isn't calming. The Grounders are coming closer. Jasper misses again. If I took the shot, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't do much better than him.

''Come on, Jasper!''

He tries again, but this time all we hear are the clicks of an empty gun. And I'm pretty sure I will faint now.

"You call that shooting?"

"Monty?''

I take the rifle from the boy that appears out of nowhere heaven-sent. Monty Green truly always thinks about everything, has everything covered. I could kiss him right now.

''How many rounds?'' I ask.

"Three.''

''You got this?'' I ask Jasper, offering the gun.

''No, you try,'' he says hurriedly, face as white as a sheet.

And I nod, taking this burden upon myself, and I position the gun, and I'm ready to shoot, and it's like in that moment I have used up all of my luck, because next I know I'm so dizzy I'm not seeing straight, and my hands slip off the gun, and I see a few drops of blood fall on the grass, and then I'm falling too. It couldn't have lasted a full minute, but it almost happened in slow-motion, I feel an hour must have passed. I have lost all control over my own self.

''Tasha!'' Monty grabs me first, and Jasper's hands are back on the gun.

''Guess it was just meant to be,'' I wheeze out more than actually say to him - it's so difficult to talk. My lungs feel so small and my breaths so shallow, and the pain is just kicking in.

Monty holds me up, Jasper takes a deep breath, and aims.

''You got this,'' Monty tells him.

Jasper shoots and misses again.

"Damn it."

"Did you not hear me say you got this?"

The Grounders are finally on the bridge, so close to the bomb, and if it went off now they'd all be dead, together with Finn's dreams of peace. And Jasper pulls the trigger again, and this time he hits the target, and the explosion blasts off so strong it almost has me and Monty back on our asses. The bridge is destroyed, and for a moment we just watch the bodies of the Grounders fly away, some of them even blown to pieces. It's horrifying and mesmerizing in a horrible way at the same time. How do you look away from something that terrible?

And as relief floods through me, adrenaline leaves me, and so does my strength. And Monty now has to hold me up almost without any of my own help as I try to cough in a direction away from everyone. And I really thought I was immune.

I'm not lucid the entire way back. I first truly regain my consciousness after a while in the Drop-Ship. John Muphy's scarred face is the first thing I see. Well, half-see. My vision is still blurred and I am pretty sure I'm bleeding from my eyes. He cleans my face gently with a wet rag, then gives me some water to try and drink.

''You're not afraid of me?'' he taunts, ''Not gonna ask me to get the hell away from you?''

''When did I ever fear you, John.''

''Maybe you should. You said yourself you don't know me anymore.''

''I don't think I fear anyone anymore,'' I retort, breathing heavily, ''So if you're gonna kill me or something- Now's your chance.''

He looks almost hurt by that statement.

I suddenly start coughing so violently, all of my insides burn. My lungs hurt so bad as I try to empty them of intrusion, but the blood is inside and it isn't getting out and as hard as I cough - I know I am suffocating. John has dropped what he was holding and turned me over on my side before I can panic, and I'm finally able to cough some of it out, blood dropping to the floor, leaving a pathway for more air to get in. It takes me a while to be able to breathe again. 

''Bellamy-,'' I croak, ''How is he-''

Murphy pauses a moment, as though contemplating whether or not he should tell me. He probably hates Bellamy still, and I can't exactly blame him either. 

''He's better,'' he says, ''Most people are. Just you, Raven and a couple of kids here.''

''That's good,'' I croak, start coughing again, then inhale as much breath as I can. It's not much.

John washes the rag again and presses it against my forehead and cheek - it's so cold I think it will give me a seizure. He cleans what I assume is new blood - I don't have the strength to argue nor move.

''Where's Clarke?'' I ask. If she trusted Murphy with the sick then surely this one's for the history books.

''Don't worry, she's been here the entire time,'' he says, meaning _''She's doesn't trust me alone for too long, she hasn't gone that crazy''_.

''Leave her,'' Bellamy's voice booms. I can't see him with my back to the entrance, and if I move I'm pretty sure I'm dead. Murphy gives him a dirty look for one very, very long moment, before he lifts his hands in surrender, drops the rag on my ''bed'', and takes a few steps back.

''As you command, Bellamy,'' he taunts sarcastically, before he leaves us be.

I don't know how to feel about Bellamy taking care of me, but I am relieved to see he looks as good as new. That damn rag is too cold again - the fever is killing me.

''Heard you were gonna take the shot.''

''Right before I dropped dying.''

''You'll storm right through it,'' he says, washing my neck, ''We all did.''

''Not all.''

We'd started off with two graves, and there has to be fifteen by now, I know. He doesn't argue that.

''Have we heard from the Ark?'' I ask.

''No.''

Great. Can anything ever just go well for once?!

''Grounders are still coming, you know that right? They need you out there, don't waste time here.''

''We've scared them off for a while.''

''You don't know them. You didn't hear them, Bellamy. Blood must have blood, they said. They're coming.''

''We're doing what we can-''

''Just go b-''

''Stop pushing me away,'' he argues, firmly, no backing down. He leaves me mute with that for a moment. And even if I knew what to say, I hardly could, since I'm having another bout of dizziness. I feel like I'll fall through the earth.

''I have to-''

I never finish that sentence. The next coughing bout has my entire respiratory system blocked - I can't breathe, I can't cough it out, and my heart is beating so fast and so hard against my chest, it might give me an arrest. My lungs hurt like someone is clawing at them.

I am dying.

''Murphy, get Clarke!!!!!!!!!!''


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heartbreak and brotherhood - Tasha experiences them both.

They must have woken me to get some food and water into me during my sickbed time, but I don't remember it. It has to be four days at least until I recover. Raven is up much sooner, but then again - she'd caught it sooner too. I don't know why the virus raged through my system for so much time - there's only a few of us that struggled with it that long. Clarke has no idea either, but it doesn't matter, as long as we're up. Connor died not two beds from mine. But it still could have been worse. 

It's scary to think that we've come to the point where we can move on from deaths so easily.

The strength comes back just as quick as it goes away with this virus - it takes me a day to really settle back into my own body, and the next day I am already as good as new. I may have lost a bit of my stamina, but physical strength comes back with work. The whole camp is hard at work, and I quickly get back to my chores and guard duty on the post with Miller.

''Good to see you still kicking,'' he says with the smallest hint of a smile.

''Oh, just admit you would have missed me,'' I grin, re-adjusted my gun strap, ''Really bad.''

The days go by too smoothly, with me still keeping a distance from Bellamy, because at this point I'm pretty sure I'm absolutely in love with him, and how the fuck do you deal with that? Don't push me away, he said. How?

Too smoothly. No signs of Grounders. The first mishap we have is Del feeding the fires too much and all of our food supplies burning up. That's a major bummer, but it's nothing like getting slaughtered by Grounders, so I try to focus on counting the blessings instead of the problems. Miller isn't exactly the type. I am surprised he refrained from beating the crap out of Del. Murphy and Octavia barely could.

Soon enough hunting parties are formed, because we can't fight Grounders whilst starving, and there are quite a few mouths to feed. I volunteer myself, but they're taking only one gunner per group, and most gunners have to stay back to defend the camp if need be. 

Raven and Jasper spend most of the time making split-load bullets. I had no idea Jasper had a knack for chemistry, but he has a lot of ideas going on in that head of his. I, on the other hand, am looking forward to spending a very boring day with Miller. Any day without the hint of a Grounder threat is a good day.

It's late afternoon when the groups come back with enough food for a couple of days. Finn and Clarke seem to have gotten lost for some privacy, as they used to do, so I figure that whole weird Raven-Finn-Clarke triangle is done and over with. A good thing too, the energy is just weird. Half the time I just didn't wanna be around the three.

''Shift's over, gonna get Harper,'' I announce, hopping off the wooden post, ''Then I'm gonna practice. You coming?''

Miller squints in that way he always does when he's about to say something sarcastic. ''Don't tell me that crappy bow actually works.''

''It's not crappy, asshole. And here I was thinking about maybe teaching you how to use it,'' I mock-argue.

''Not like I have anything else to do after this. Sleep, maybe.''

''Right,'' I chuckle, ''Be right back. Harper!!!!!''

The girl waves in acknowledgment from the other side of the camp.

I usually leave the bow and arrows in our armory - Monty helped me make some more arrows and I'd made a makeshift quiver myself before that whole mess started and we all got sick. The armory is actually the smallest tent in the camp, right past Bellamy's. The fact that that man is having that giant tent all to himself is ridiculous, but then again, he _is_ rarely alone. 

That thought makes me flush with a pang of irrational jealousy, though I haven't seen him with a girl in a while. That's absolutely stupid, being jealous. I have no claim over him. I had him once, just like all those other girls. That thought doesn't make me feel any better either.

Don't push me away, he said.

Whatever.

Just as I pass Bellamy's tent, I realize how wrong I am. The pain I feel in that moment is _crippling_. Which is ridiculous - I've been through so much since we got here. Murphy, deaths, sicknesses, injuries, fear. I've faced Grounders. I've watched the Drop-Ship with my parents on it fall down into an infernal explosion. And I stood almost undeterred.

But right now, hearing him with a girl in that tent, whoever she is, knowing I was in her place for one night and it didn't mean anything - it's fucking awful. The tips of my fingers are going numb. Tears sting at my eyes. But I wouldn't. _Don't you dare fucking cry._

I grab the bow and quiver and storm back over to Miller and just grab his arm without explanation and all but drag us both out of camp. There is a tree nearby with a trunk all scraped and pierced where I practiced from time to time. Miller doesn't ask questions until we're there, and I am already shooting arrows furiously.

''Alright. Whatever it is, take it out on the tree,'' Miller says casually, seating himself on the grass, ''Though if that tree were a Grounder you'd be dead by now.''

It's true enough. My anger and heartbreak and furious, wounded pride don't allow me to really be at one with the bow as I should be. If this were a battlefield, my fury would blindly be my downfall. Some of the arrows just scrape past.

I don't reply to his remark. I shoot another arrow, then another, and another, until the quiver is empty, and I stomp ahead to re-collect them all, biting back tears still.

I feel a hand on my arm.

''Hey. You okay?''

I am afraid of speaking because I don't trust my voice not to crack.

''I'm fine.''

''You don't seem fine.''

''I have to be,'' I pick up the last arrow, and go back to the shooting position. Notch the arrow. Pull. Aim.

Miller leans against the tree behind me; in the corner of my eye I see him cross his arms on his chest. He's studying me curiously.

''I don't wanna talk about it,'' I say, releasing the arrow, ''I never make you talk about it.''

''I've never been this messed up,'' he argues.

Another arrow. Dead center now.

''You don't have to tell me about it, just deal with it,'' he speaks again and adds, '''Cause this leads to reckless, and reckless gets you killed.''

I don't know what breaks in me, but I just can't hold it together anymore. I break down crying. In front of Miller. I hate crying, and what I hate most in the entire world is crying in front of someone. And I am crying in front of Nathan Miller _of all people_. A complete fucking disaster.

I just sit down on the ground and cry, face in hands, bow on ground, angry and hurt and tired and afraid and confused and embarrassed all in fucking one.

He just sits down next to me and puts his hand on my shoulder. It's just enough. Anything more and he would have made it worse. Anything less and he would have made it worse.

I weep like a damn baby, and it feels so unbelievably good. Just letting it all out of me, flushing the toxins out. I no longer care that I'm crying, I just want it all out in one go. Nathan rubs my shoulder a bit, comfortingly.

''There ya go.''

''This fucking sucks,'' I sniffle.

''I know.''

''Everything just... just sucks.''

''I know.''

''Oh, God,'' I wipe my face, ''I think I just had a mental breakdown.''

Miller laughs. ''When I get those, I tend to punch things. Your way's better.''

''Yeah, right,'' I chuckle, ''More like weak.''

''Weak? No, you're dumb.''

I turn and mock-punch him in the arm.

''Dumb if you think that's weak,'' he grins, rubbing his arm as though it had hurt, ''Look at all we've been through. Weak's not even an option.''

I look to the light of the camp - it flickers in the evening now that the sun has come down. It looks pretty. It's a freaking lighthouse for the Grounders. 

I don't wanna go back. Not just because of Bellamy Blake, but everything. I don't want to re-enter the soon to be slaughterhouse. I don't want to keep on pulling ends together when nothing matters anyway. Everything we do from the moment we woke up to the moment we fell asleep - it doesn't matter. We're all dead meat, as much as our defiant spirits want us to think otherwise. Oh, we'll fight; we will go down fighting. But what's the point? I've lost everything. My parents, my brother, my home. All I have are struggles and memories.

''I don't wanna go back,'' I say out loud.

''Well, we kinda have to,'' Miller says, ''But we can stay a while. Promised you'd teach me how to shoot that bow anyway.''

''I made no promises,'' I smile.

''Let's not go nitpicking,'' he says, gets up, offers me a hand. I take it and stand back up on my feet.

''You're a good friend, Miller,'' I say, collecting the arrows off the floor.

''Don't get all mushy on me.''

''Seriously though, you know next to nothing about me,'' I say, ''But you know me, somehow.''

''You're not that hard to figure out,'' he grins, testing the bow in his hands, adding: ''Same, though.''

''Are my eyes puffy?''

''You look like a toad.''

''Fuck you, Miller,'' I laugh.

''You asked,'' he shrugs with a grin, and notches an arrow to the bow.

We practice and pretty much laughe about our emotionally constipated selves both until pretty late. Most of the camp is already asleep when we go back and crash for the night.

In the morning, everything is clearer for me, but it isn't easier. My mom always used to say mornings are ''smarter'' than nights. You always see everything more clearly in the morning, whereas nights are passionate, irrational, impulsive. That's true enough. Still, I know my task. This would all be over soon, one way or another.

''Get your gun,'' Octavia approaches me, ''We're heading out.''

''What, why?''

''Finn and Clarke are not back yet,'' Raven explains, ''That kid Myles either.''

''Right. God,'' I go to the armory to get equipped, ''This shit again.''


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some misunderstandings are finally cleared up. But is it ever that simple?

_''I thought you said you were heading west. Where are you?''_ Monty's voice sounds through the walkie-talkie. Yet again, Raven has managed the impossible with these things, a real life-savior.

''Just keep the moon to your left, and you'll find us,'' Bellamy replies.

''I don't like this,'' I admit, ''Monty's no gunner.''

''He's doing fine. He's tougher than we give him credit for.''

Awkward silence. As much as we're focused on the search, it's palpable. I wish we hadn't separated.

''Look, Tasha,'' he speaks after a while, ''I've been wanting to talk to you.''

''About what?'' I try to play as dumb as I can, though a part of me is both hoping and dreading he'll start talking about what happened between us.

''You've been avoiding me. Ever since that night-''

''No, I haven't-''

''Look, I'm not stupid,'' he stops in place, argues dead-serious, ''Don't treat me like I am.''

I turn around to face him. ''I don't think you're stupid, Bellamy. But we have to keep moving.''

''No, just one second,'' he stops me again, just as I take a few steps onward, ''If you didn't want anything to do with me after that, you should've just told me, alright? I'm not a little boy.''

''Me? I was actually making it easier for you,'' I bite back, ''No need to stay around, right? Just casual sex. Got myself out of the way so the line of girls can proceed.''

''What the fff- Stop. Tasha!''

''We need to keep moving, Bellamy,'' I hiss when he grabs my arm and stops me again. I am so angry at myself for that last sentence. Good God, did I fuck up. Now it's obvious that I care. And I'm not very good at hiding my hurt ego and my fury either. Fucking hell.

''It wasn't like that.''

''Really?'' I frown, ''So what you're saying is that was more than just a one night stand to you? Hm?''

''Maybe,'' he says, and my heart wants to burst into a million pieces. I do not let that show.

''Well, Bellamy, I don't buy that for a second. And it's fine, really. I'm a big girl. Casual sex is just fine with me.''

''I'm not lying.''

''Yeah, I bet you said that to the girl you fucked yesterday too.''

_Fuck._

_Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuuuuck._

_Why did I say that?_

I walk on, hoping he won't catch up and stop me again, because how the fuck can I face him now? _Where the hell are Grounders when you need them? Because I feel like getting abducted right about now._

''I don't believe you,'' he grumbles, walking behind me, ''We have sex, then you avoid me like the plague, and now somehow I'm the asshole.''

''I never said you were an asshole. I'm not really following what we're discussing here anymore.''

''We're discussing you acting childish.''

''I told you what I was doing. Getting myself out of your hair. I know how this works.''

''Well, I literally just told you it wasn't like that. And yesterday with Raven wasn't what you think either.''

''You don't have to explain yo-,'' I turn around at the realization of the name, frozen in my tracks, ''Raven?!''

I don't know why that hurts me so much. Maybe it's because I like Raven a lot. And it's not like she has done anything to actively harm me. I have no claim over Bellamy. The fact that he's explaining himself was ridiculous in itself. 

The fact that he said it may have been something more to him than just sex, I try to shut out.

''She was trying to move on,'' he says, ''From Finn.''

''And you, the ever ready to help kind of friend-''

''I was trying to get _you_ out of my head!'' he quite literally growls.

For a couple of eternity long moments we just stand there, looking at each other. I can see the vein on his forehead from the way he said that. As though he's pissed. And I am just dumbfounded. This can't be. What do you say to that?

He lets me off the hook.

''Look, I don't know how to do this, but I care about you,'' he says, ''I'm not asking anything from you. Just don't go off the grid on me, alright? That's not necessary. We're grown-ups. And we need to work together now more than anything.''

''Bellamy...''

''What?''

''I care about you too, alright. And the reason I went off the grid was because I didn't wanna get hurt, not when I know how you are, and what you do. It was unnecessary. Especially in the middle of everything, like- For fuck's sake, there's so much to deal with around here, I don't need that too. I don't need any of this.''

I can hardly believe I've said all that, but it's so liberating I no longer care.

''I did not come down here for any of this, either,'' he says, ''I came for Octavia - everything I did was for Octavia - but we don't get to choose what happens to us. We didn't plan any of this shit. I didn't _plan_ to care about you.''

_Oh, God. My heart will fail me._

''And it sure as hell would have made my life easier if I didn't,'' he adds.

 _Oh, God. Oh, God. How do I turn this around?_ I want to kiss him so bad, it's insane, but I am also so ridiculously afraid.

''Well,'' I clear my throat, ''Octavia is your pressure point. I don't have one, and I don't need one. Alone protects me.''

''That's bullshit. Bullshit, and you know it.''

''Look, Bellamy, we're probably all gonna die in a couple of days anyway, what's the point?''

''I don't know,'' he says, brushing past me, ''What's the point of anything.''

This time I stop him, my hand grabbing his jacket so instinctively I almost didn't mean to do it. He turns around, looks at me again, stares right down into my eyes, and I can't help but think how beautiful he is even when he frowns the way he so often does, even with those little creases between his eyebrows. But I am tongue-tied. I had nothing in mind when my hand grabbed his jacket. And he is so damn close and the smell of him is literally enough to lure you in and God, why do I have to like even the mere closeness of him so much? The way I can hear him breathe. The way his chest rises and falls. The way that one particular curl caresses his forehead in the breeze. His eyes - God, his gorgeous dark eyes are both melting me and sending electric waves through my spine. I didn't need this weakness. Not on top of everything.

But when he kisses me, none of that matters. Those thoughts are carried away by the wind. Because the feel of his soft lips on mine, his breath on my skin, the taste of him - who the hell cares if we were going to die? His teeth, his tongue, his fingertips on my cheek. I am so sensitive to his fingers, it's ludicrous. How? Why? Nothing matters.

''That's what I've really wanted you to do,'' I say when we pulled apart, my voice sounding not quite like my own. He smiles so genuinely down at me, his eyes smile too. He is so beautiful.

''Next time, you're kissing m-''

I cup his face and slam that kiss before he can finish the sentence, and I can literally feel him smile against my lips.

''We're still not even,'' he grins.

''Yeah, well, let's focus on why we came here now, because I'm growing antsy again.''

''Come on,'' he leads the way.

As I follow him, gun in hand again, I can't help but feel so damn torn. Happy - disgustingly happy - but the thought of him and Raven just makes me feel so... cheap. It's all stupid anyway. I am being stupid altogether. 

_''Is anyone else hearing this signal?''_ Monty's voice sounds again.

''What are you even talking about, buddy,'' I say. 

_''Just keep your eyes open. I think it's the same thing we heard in the black box.''_

''Damn it, Monty, pay attention,'' Bellamy says, ''Do you see anything? Report.''

_''Oh, my God.''_

''What?'' I ask, ''Monty, what is it?''

Something has suddenly gone wrong, because the damn walkie-talkies screech like from the infernal heat of hell.

''Monty?'' I call.

''Monty!''

''Is this supposed to happen?'' I ask Bellamy, panic rising in me, but he looks as terrified as I feel, which doesn't ease me at all.

''Monty!'' he calls again, ''Monty, are you there?!''

Nothing. Every hair on my body stands right up.

 _''Guys, we found Myles,''_ Raven's voice sounds, and we tear off toward them right away.

The boy's injuries are pretty bad - I am no expert but the way he looks lying there, I'm not sure he'll make it, not with Clarke out of camp. Octavia and Raven kneel next to him as he tries his best to speak as coherently as he can, but he is in so much pain and once we've carried him back to camp no one will really be able to help him - not the way Clarke would have been.

Octavia gives him some water to drink. ''Okay, easy,'' she says, ''Can you talk now?''

''Where are they?'' Raven asks him, ''Clarke and Finn, where are they?''

Myles swallows, takes a long painful breath and says: ''Grounders took them.''

''Oh, my God,'' I breathe. Not this again. We can't do this again.

''Take it easy,'' Octavia says, ''We have to get him back to camp.''

''What about Clarke and Finn?'' Raven asks.

''Raven, I'm sorry,'' Bellamy only says. 

''We really can't do anything right now except get ourselves killed,'' I say, but feeling fucking awful nevertheless. They are on their own now, the way John and I were.

''We need to make a stretcher,'' Octavia suggests.

''Monty, we're heading home. You copy? Monty, can you hear me?'' Bellamy calls, but there is nothing but static sound, ''Monty?''

''What the hell happened?'' I ask no one in particular. The way only Monty's device seems to have troubles working is unnerving to say the least.

''God, Bellamy, something's wrong,'' I say, ''He's alone out there.''

''Monty? Monty, can you hear me?'' he persists.

''I don't understand,'' Raven frowns, hearing the sound, ''It's like something's jamming his signal.''

''Monty, where the hell are you? Report.''

''We gotta go check for him,'' I argue.

''With Myles in this condition? We can't,'' Bellamy told me.

''He may have fallen somewhere, hit his head, broken his radio,'' I urge, ''We gotta find him.''

''That's not the sound of a broken radio device,'' Raven argues.

''It's not safe here anymore, we gotta get back to camp,'' Bellamy says.

''He couldn't have gone that far,'' I insist, ''Give me twenty minutes.''

''Tasha, no-''

''Twenty minutes might be all the difference to Myles,'' Octavia says.

''Then take Myles-''

''Natasha, no,'' Bellamy says firmly, ''No one's going on a potential suicide mission.''


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murphy makes bad choices. Tasha remembers he always did, but not like this.

When I was sixteen, I dated a guy a year older than me. At first I really thought it was love, the way you usually do with first real relationships. It turned into living hell pretty soon, but I still didn't want to see that the entire time we were together. Misery most of the time is never what a relationship should be like. 

His name was Cole and he fucking sucked.

John hated him. He didn't exactly say it outright, but he didn't have to. Though he probably wanted Cole out of my life at the speed of light, he didn't even talk to me much about it. Usually, John Murphy has a lot to say about pretty much everything, but when it came to me, he respected my choices, and when they were wrong, he was there to help me get through them. He would have probably rather cut off his own hand back then than told me to break up with the dog. 

I don't know how I even managed to fit a relationship into my life, not to mention the added misery of a crappy one. For months I wasn't letting that shit go; for months I thought it was me that had to change. And when I cried for hours, John was the only one that knew. He didn't say much then either; he was just there for me. Over and over again. Most of the time I was too embarrassed to go to him, but sometimes I just needed him, needed someone. 

And then one day, John smashed Cole's face in.

It's a miracle John wasn't detained that day, but it was only because no Guards were present to witness and he threatened the living shit out of Cole. The older boy wouldn't even consider reporting him after that. 

In the face of John Murphy, he wasn't so big and mighty. The man who abused me constantly was suddenly a small mouse shaking with fear on the inside at the prospect of my best friend somehow floating him. Only authorities could float you, but Cole probably thought John Murphy was psycho enough to find a way. 

Murphy had played his crazy eyes card - that look he gives you that makes you pretty damn sure the boy's capable of slitting your throat in your sleep if you cross him. I knew better. I knew him, and his bluff. The card he played was the one he often used at the face of adversity; for some people kindness opened doors, for John Murphy it was the fear he was able to instill. 

I was angry at him after that, for fighting my battles. In reality, I was angry at myself, for allowing it to happen. I was so damn angry I'd allowed that boy to make me weak - which was something I'd never been before, or after. I was so damn angry we all risked the Skybox, a year before we were actually locked up. I was so angry for so long. 

We broke up some days after, me and Cole. Even after all that, and the hurtful things he said to me in that time, a part of me still considered mending this situation, doubting myself. _He is a piece of shit, I am going to break up with him - but what if it really is me? What if I'm making a mistake? What if this is it?_

What a child. Someone should have taught me better.

''Look at your knuckles,'' I'd told him a few days after it all, as we made our way to my room. He was going through so much on his own - changing so much - he didn't need to share my burdens too. It was time for me to be there for him, not the other way around. The least I could do was give him a temporary escape from his life, hiding in my room and going through my dad's music collection. It didn't seem to work much, but I still tried - tried to be his escape. 

''Never fight my battles again, John.''

''The way he was pulling you around- He didn't even care you weren't alone,'' he said, ''You should have punched him yourself.''

''Yeah, well, he's gone now. And I mean it. Never again.''

''I can't promise you that,'' he said with the smallest hint of a smile, ''Come.''

I climbed my bed where he sat, and snuggled up the way I so often did. His arm went around me as he played with a strand of my hair. Along with his steady breathing, it calmed me. The arm around me made me feel at home. This time it was him that picked out an album to play. And we just stayed like that until the last song, completely sheltered from the rest of the world. And in that time, nothing could harm us

*

At The Camp, we're preparing for the Grounders to come. Raven is setting up the minefield while Jasper is trying to squeeze out some more bullets. I am on now much dreaded guard duty, as pretty usual. The problem is sitting and watching, waiting. I am ready to jump out of my skin. Nathan has smuggled a couple of gulps of moonshine to make the long watch easier, but it isn't helping me much.

I look to Bellamy on the other side, discussing something with Raven as she sets up the mines. Those kisses and the entire reconciliation seems hardly real now, like I dreamed it all up. I still feel a pang of something akin to jealousy as I watch them, even knowing they're discussing battle matters. It's irrational. They've been arguing too, Bell insisting on no one leaving camp and Raven insisting on searching for our people. 

I didn't know which side to take, because both of them are in the right. Right now, Bellamy's reasoning is outweighing Raven's. We need to sit tight and stick together, protected by walls and everything we've put together.

A gunshot tears me away from my thoughts, has me instinctively on my feet and my eye on the night vision scope. I scan the woods quickly. Nothing.

''Whoa! What the hell was that?'' 

''Hey! What the hell is the matter with you?'' Bellamy confronts the culprit.

''I'm sorry, man. I fell asleep. I've been on watch all day.''

''We've all been on watch all day! That bullet was one less dead grounder!''

''Bell, you're scaring people,'' Octavia said. 

''They should be scared! The bomb on the bridge bought us some time to prepare, but that time is up! The Grounders are out there right now, waiting for us to leave and picking us off one by one when we do! Clarke, Finn, and Monty are gone, probably dead, and if you want to be next, I can't stop you, but no guns are leaving this camp! This camp is the only thing keeping us alive! Get back to work!''

I hop off the post to meet him. He's going through a lot with the responsibility he feels for all these people weighing him down, but he isn't choosing the most ideal way to go about things, as usual.

''You really think that? That they're dead?''

''It doesn't matter, what matters is they're not here, and we are, and what matters is that no one leaves this camp.''

''Did you write me off the same way when I was out there?''

''It's not about that, Tasha, and you know it,'' he says, ''Fear of what might have happened to Clarke and Finn and Monty will keep them inside and keep them ready to fight.''

''Fear? Bellamy, fear will cripple them. When the time comes, you're gonna have to figure out how to fire them up. They can't fight crippled by fear.''

''You afraid?''

''More like nervous,'' I sigh.

He kisses my forehead. ''Be careful.''

I nod and go back to my post.

*

The camp has almost fallen into a peaceful silence, though it's nothing even resembling peace. Everyone is focused on their task, the camp merely buzzing, but on the inside everyone is a nervous wreck.

Thankfully, the watch proves uneventful so far, though every sound in the far bushes makes me jump. Gunner shifts are long, and I usually get the night shifts, despite Bellamy's suggestions. Days are for sleeping a bit and helping around with stuff. Nights are for keeping careful watch.

''How's Myles doing?'' I ask Bellamy.

''Same. Surprisingly not worse. But without Clarke there's nothing else we can do.''

''Maybe we should move him to the upper level somehow. His moans are really affecting the morale around here.''

''Hey, you should get some more sleep,'' he says, placing a hand on my cheek.

''I'm fine.''

''If not for yourself then for the rest of us. You're a gunner.''

''Speaking of guns, we could use more rounds. I'm gonna see how Jasper's doing.''

''Then my tent. No one will disturb you there.''

I try not to smile, but can't fight it. ''Don't you worry about me, Bellamy,'' I peck his lips.

''I'm gonna go get Myles some water,'' he says, hiding a smile of his own. 

I find Jasper on the upper level, teetering on the edge of his nerves.

''How's it going?'' I ask carefully.

''It's useless,'' he shoves the useless rounds off the table, frustrated, ''What we've got is what we've got, and that's it.''

''We have mines all around, and we have grenades. No use wrecking your head over it when we've stretched our limits to the fullest.''

''Monty's out there,'' he turns to face me, a troubled and almost angry look on his face, ''And Clarke, and Finn. And I would bet my ass they'd go looking if it was any of us.''

''And at any other time, we'd go. But this is what the Grounders want. If we get out there now, they'll just pick us off one by one. The way they do every time we step out. And you know it, Jasper. Don't you think I want to go after them? I've _been_ with the Grounders, just like you.''

''I'm gonna get this gunpowder to Raven,'' he says instead of a reply, ''She'll make better use of it.''

''Let me try and salvage this mess.''

''Don't even,'' Jasper says, opening the hatch, ''They won't work.''

I sit down at the table and collect all the toppled over shells and spilled gunpowder. I've watched both Raven and Jasper do this for so long, I've learned how to do it, though I'm quite clumsy.

Then I hear the Drop-Ship door get closed.

_That's weird._

There is some noise outside, people arguing, but now that the door is closed barely anything can reach me inside.

''Jasper?'' I call, forgetting that he's closed the hatch behind him. He can't hear me.

I move to the hatch, but it's Murphy's voice I hear, talking to someone. No Jasper. By some primal survival instinct, I stop to listen before opening the hatch.

 _''Just you, Bellamy!''_ he demands, probably over the radio, _''Unarmed!''_

I have no idea what's going on, and yet my insides twist in fear. Any conflict involving Murphy and Bellamy can't end well. _Unarmed? What does he mean? What does he want?_

_''Ten seconds!''_

I want to open the hatch, to see what's happening, but I don't know what I'm heading into.

The Drop-Ship door opens, then closes again. Some exchange happens, but since there is no more shouting, I can't distinguish it through the closed-off hatch.

Then I hear a gun-shot.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasha gets caught between two flames, and finds her heart on the other side of where it once was.

It all went downhill when John's dad got floated. He tried to be there for his mom after that, and I tried to be there for him, but neither seemed to work. His mom was drinking herself to death and I was watching Jonathan Murphy go down a road that would destroy him.

I'm still not sure if he hated Jaha more, or himself. I'm still not sure who he blamed more. As though it had been his fault he'd gotten sick; as though it had been his fault his dad stole the medicine that wouldn't have helped him anyway.

His mother drank more and more every day. He tried to stop it, to help her. He'd destroy all the moonshine he could find, but she'd always find a way to get more. This one time, he tried to keep her locked up for a couple of days to try and get the addiction out of her system. He stayed with her, and I helped bring in everything they needed. My mom went in to check on her every once in a while. It was ugly, but it seemed to be working. It was like some demon had possessed the woman when she was going through one of her crises, but she'd gone through them nevertheless.

After a few days, her behavior was normalized. The possibility of her getting better had John coming back from the slippery slope he was headed down. The woman had gone through all the crises, and after another couple of days, John thought he could trust her to leave her alone for a while. Still, for the first couple of days, it was me that stayed with her when John had to go out, just in case. After that, she really looked so good and behaved so well we all thought she was okay again. So we put a little faith in that. 

The first hour she had by herself, she relapsed.

It was ugly, really ugly; and from that point on it was getting worse than it had ever been. When she was dying, there was nothing my mom, or Dr Abby, or anyone in the medical could do to help her. ''Don't bother,'' John said, the moment I made for the door to get help. 

_Don't bother._

That was no way to die, lying in your own vomit, poisoned by moonshine, in front of your own son. And that was no way to remember your mother by. And that moment right there, stuck in that room with John as his mother was dying, was the hardest moment in my life thus far. This was back before I knew real suffering. This was what threatened to tear me apart. And the last thing she said to him, made me break into a million pieces. _Me._ How could I ever know what John had to have felt like?

''You killed your own father.''

She died then, and the state John was in was the scariest thing I'd ever seen. I didn't know what to say, and even when I tried, he didn't want to hear it. I didn't know how to help him. I didn't know how to touch him. I didn't know how to pull him back from the brink.

I did what I could. I called the authorities. I took care of the whole funeral business with the help of my parents. John was in no state to help. 

The whole thing really shook me. Mom and dad must have seen what I was going through. They liked John well enough, but they didn't want their daughter to suffer because of someone else's troubles, I assumed. Dad would insist on me watching his stupid, old cowboy movies with him and I'd just refuse and go back to my corner to worry.

''Life is the most precious,'' mom had told me one of those nights, ''I'm sick, but I'm alive. And I'm gonna be alive for quite a while yet. We must never, under any circumstances, give up on life.''

''I'm afraid John might have given up on his,'' I said, more scared than I'd realized.

''John is a good kid. Strong, too. He'll get through this,'' she kissed my forehead, ''Don't worry, sweetie.''

She was wrong though, and I was right. After a while it was clear to me that John was getting himself in trouble on purpose. He wanted to get locked up. He wanted to destroy what little of his life was left.

And I couldn't stop him. He kept pushing me further and further away. Everything I did backfired right at me, and it hurt, it hurt so damn bad, but I still didn't blame him, I still had understanding, he was a loose cannon, he was hurting himself the worst. When he lashed out on me, when he pushed me away, it was misdirected, and I didn't mind, I didn't get mad, I understood. Whatever he needed to get through it.

I visited him in the Skybox often, at least until my mom got worse and I myself got locked up. I think he was torn about my visits. I think he was glad to see me and he was glad I never gave up on him. But I could also tell he hated my visiting him, hated my seeing him in the state he was. That wasn't the only thing he was torn about. Since then, he'd never been whole. Just two pieces of himself at war with each other.

And I was dealing with so much myself, I was nearing a burn-out. But I didn't tell him about my stuff, though he always asked when I visited. Mom was worse and we needed the medicine and dad was hectic and scared and I was bent on finding a way to be useful and help her. Every breath I took was dangerous. But I didn't tell him any of it.

And every time I came back, he was less and less of himself. He was spiteful, drowning in self-pity, angry at everyone and himself and the world, miserable, dead inside. And it killed me to see him like that, to watch him become this person I no longer knew. He knew that too, so he gave me a final push. 

''You don't have to come here anymore, you know,'' he'd said, ''I have no use for your pity.''

''You have no idea what the hell you're talking about-''

''Oh yeah? Won't you go back to your perfect little family and leave me be? I'm not your brother, Natasha. Go find a pet plant to care for if you really need it,'' he spat the venom and I was tongue-tied, a breath stuck in my throat. He didn't stop there either.

''I don't need to see that look of pity two times a week, I know what I am to you. I'm that layer of dust you just can't seem to shake off your shoes and move on. You really think I'm stupid enough not to see you're here just out of some- some sense of duty? You owe me nothing.''

''Shut up, John,'' I'd said, trying really hard not to cry.

''For fuck's sake, I don't even know you anymore! Who are you? What happened to you? You're just this- empty person with the face of someone I used to know. A god damn robot with your face plastered on it! I don't need that-''

I slapped him so hard then I was sure I could have drawn blood. I walked away. I cried it out.

I never spoke to him again until Earth, as much as I'd wanted to.

*

The bullet was shot upwards. I know because I can tell the exact spot it got stuck in, too close for comfort. Maybe the next bullet could get through and get me shot.

Real fear washes over me. Murphy and Bellamy are down there, in a conflict, with a gun that has just fired, and they are closed off. Jasper may have been down there too. One wrong step and there would be more graves to dig before the Grounders could get to us.

They aren't shouting, and I can't hear what's going on. No shouting would be a good sign anywhere else, but not with Bellamy and Murphy. I can't just climb down and into the stew either, I could catch an instinctive bullet the moment I stepped a foot down. But I have to do something.

I rush and rummage through our stuff, but as quietly as I can, trying to find at least one radio device - I need to talk to someone outside and see what's going on. 

And I don't find a single damn one. I feel I could scream.

Another shot, but this one isn't fired to the ceiling. I go into a full on panic mode. Either that was another warning shot into the ground or a wall, or someone is wounded. Either of them wounded...

_God._

_Okay, plan B._

I have to believe he still has some affection for me.

''It's me!'' I shout, the moment I open the hatch an inch ajar, ''Don't shoot!''

''Natasha, stay up there!'' Murphy shouts, ''If you put one foot down I swear to God I'll shoot you!''

''John, what are you doing?!''

''Stay there!'' he shouts - I can't fully see him yet from my angle, though the hatch is open completely now, ''You! Start tying!''

_He wouldn't._

I put one foot on the stairs.

He fires up, right past me.

''I said stay there!!!''

 _''Bellamy?''_ I can hear Octavia over the radio, _''Bellamy! Are you ok?''_

''You want her to know you're alive? Start tying.'' 

_''Bellamy! Do you copy?''_

''I'm fine,'' Bellamy replies, and I release a breath I didn't know I was holding, ''Just a misfire. Now stop worrying about me and get back to work, all of you. And tell Raven to hurry her ass up.''

''Alright, that's long enough. Tie those two ends together,'' Murphy commands.

''John, I'm gonna get down-''

''Stay the fuck back!'' he shouts at me, then turns back to Bellamy, ''Alright. Now get up and toss it over.''

I do not like the way that sounds.

''What do you want me to say?'' Bellamy starts, ''You want me to apologize? I'm- I'm sorry.''

''You got it all wrong, Bellamy,'' Murphy replies, ''I don't want you to say anything. I want you to feel what I felt, and then - then I want you to die.''

''The fuck you will,'' I mutter to myself and take an almost literal leap of faith - I climb down so fast, only a bullet could have stopped me. But he wouldn't shoot me. He wouldn't.

Murphy turns around to face me, but his gun is trained on Bellamy - Bellamy who is standing there with a noose in front of him. And for a moment I lose the ability to breathe. The look Bellamy gives me is so close to hopeless and lost, I want to die. And almost angry. Probably angry that I'm there. I wasn't supposed to be.

''Did I not tell you to stay the fuck back!!''

''John, you don't have to do this-''

''Now, you're gonna watch him die.''

''This isn't you-''

''Shut up!'' he shouts, and I almost jump back, ''You don't know me! You said it yourself. You!'' he turns toward Bellamy, ''Stand on it. Put it over your head.''

''This is insane,'' Bellamy says, ''Let her out. You let Jasper out, this is between you and me.''

''John, please,'' I say, really ready to cry like a little child.

''Natasha, I swear to God, if you move one inch, I will shoot you where you stand,'' he growls through his teeth.

''Do what he says,'' Bellamy tells me, trying to seem calm, but I can tell how much he's in panic.

''Put it over your head,'' Murphy repeats to him.

''Just let her go,'' Bellamy insists.

''No one's leaving this dropship now until you're dead.''

''There's no way that's what you want,'' I say, my voice vibrating with tears I fight back, but he ignores me. 

Bellamy steps up on the stool, and puts the noose around his neck. Murphy pulls and tightens it, making Bellamy stand on his tiptoes. I cry out a ''no'' that goes ignored. Murphy tells me that with every step I take, Bellamy will just die a little faster. So I can't even move, with that rope in his hand. Bellamy looks so helpless, teetering at the edge. I can't look but I have to; and I have to do something but I can't. I am as tied as I had been in the Grounder camp. And the helplessness has me suffocating. 

''You were wronged,'' I find it in me to speak, my own voice sounding foreign to me, ''I know it as you know it. What happened that day, it was wrong. And I tried to stop it.''

''This has nothing to do with you,'' Murphy replies.

''But it does,'' I say, ''Did I not take your side? Did I not scream and shout and literally just- fight my way to you? I was going to cut you free no matter what.''

''What's your point?'' he gives me only a brief look, and I see a glimpse of remorse there. That's why he doesn't dare really look at me, that remorse is a crack in the wall that could rupture and his resolve would break. And he's gone too far to allow that already.

Bellamy looks at me too, and gives the smallest of nods he can manage with that noose around his neck. Suddenly I understand.

_Keep him talking._

''If you won't spare him for him, do it for me,'' I say, ''If I've ever meant anything to you. Let him live. For me, John.''

''That's cute,'' he nods with a sarcastic smile, even chuckles spitefully a bit, ''You playing that card at the rightest of moments, that's really cute. You know what, Tasha? Bellamy might have hanged me, but you were the first to kick me while I'm down.''

''How dare you?'' I screech, ''You know damn well- You meant the world to me! You know damn well I did all I could! You wanna blame it all on me to make yourself feel better? Go ahead! But you know you're the one that ruined everything, you know it!''

''None of that matters now,'' he pulls just a tiny bit on the rope, enough to make Bellamy grasp for air.

''Please,'' I beg, ''I lost you, I lost my parents, I lost my home. I can't lose him too.''

''Won't you look at that, Bellamy?'' he turns to him now, ''Your damsel in distress. You're so brave, aren't you? I mean, you came in here thinking you're just gonna turn this whole thing around, that you were stronger than me, and maybe one of your friends would come and help you. Well, what are you thinking now, Bellamy? Hmm?''

Bellamy doesn't reply. My heart threatens to jump out of my chest. One milimeter to the front and he'll be hanged. I can't breathe properly. And I have no idea what to do still. Keep him talking. But what now? I am out of cards to play.

''You know, I gotta hand it to you, Bellamy,'' Murphy starts again, ''You got 'em all fooled. They actually look up to you, almost as much as they look up to Clarke. Yeah, well, we know the truth, don't we? You're a coward. I learned that the day you kicked out that crate from beneath me. And isn't that what you said - that you were just giving the people what they wanted, right?''

''I should have stopped them.''

''Yeah, it's a little late for that now.''

''You think they're just gonna let you walk out of here?''

''Well, I think the princess is dead but I know the king's about to die, so who's really gonna lead these people, huh?''

''You can still turn back,'' I say, ''You know you can. No damage's been done yet. John, please-''

''As I was saying,'' he ignores, ''The one to lead will be me, that's who, and, yeah, maybe I'll have to kill your grounder-pounding little sister-''

There is sudden noise below us - someone is there. I wish I hadn't reacted so obviously, but Murphy would have heard it anyway.

''Aah! I'm guessing that's her right now,'' Murphy says, firing several rounds into the floor.

''No!'' I scream, moving toward him, trying to use the chance to disarm him maybe, but that gun is pointed right at me all too soon. I freeze. Lift my hands up slowly.

''Don't make me do this,'' Murphy tells me quietly, almost seemingly calmly.

''You wouldn't,'' I insist.

''You don't know that. Look around you, T. All me. Who knows who I just killed down there.''

Bellamy tries to use the moment too, tries to kick Murphy now that he doesn't look, but the other boy just kicks the stool from under him so suddenly, neither of us really saw it coming. Bellamy's hands claw at the noose desperately, and I cry out, wanting to help him, unable to move, facing the barrel of a gun.

''Using your hands is a cheat. Mine were bound, remember?'' John pulls at Bellamy's hands, and then Bellamy punches him somehow, and Murphy punches back and then I lose it.

I am on Murphy, my hands on the gun, trying to take it away from him, turn this thing around, not caring if he shot me anymore, we're all dead anyway, but I would fight - damn it I would go down with a fight. A bullet has fired off somewhere, and in all that struggling I wouldn't have felt it even if it ended up in me.

But he wins, punching me hard in the face with the butt of the rifle, just enough to disable me for a while and get me off him. I fall on the floor, blood in my mouth, world whizzing around me, time stretching slowly.

I must have dreamt the Drop-Ship door falling open.


	23. Chapter 23

I didn't dream it; I didn't black out. It was Jasper and Octavia that got in first, cut Bellamy down. By the time he's breathing again and I am somehow back on my feet, Murphy has already closed himself off on the middle level. Bellamy is so furious he barely stops to take a proper breath - he's already banging on that hatch trying to get to Murphy like it's the only thing that matters in the world. I, on the other hand, need a moment to stop being so dizzy. 

Octavia hurriedly helps clean some of the blood off my face while Bellamy tries to open the hatch still, Jasper right behind him. ''I'm fine,'' I insist, tasting more blood, wiping more with the back of my hand. He could have broken my nose.

''Murphy!'' Bellamy bangs, his voice raspy, ''Murphy! It's over! Murphy! There's only one way out of this for you now!''

''Wanna bet?!''

_Fucking Murphy._

''Give me that,'' I take Jasper's rifle, click it ready. Point it toward the hatch. _I owe him a gun barrel trained at his face._

Something explodes up there on the middle level. Bellamy manages to get the hatch open then, only to climb up and find a god damn hole in the wall. No Murphy.

''Murphy!''

''What the fuck did he do?!'' I screech.

''The guy knows how to make an exit,'' someone comments. 

''Should we go after him?'' Jasper asks.

''No. Grounders will take care of Murphy,'' Bellamy says, ''We're going after Clarke, Finn, and Monty. You and Raven were right. We don't abandon our own.''

''You guys go ahead,'' I say, adjusting the gun strap, ''I'm going after Murphy.''

''Not a chance,'' Bellamy says, ''Don't be crazy.''

''I'm settling this score-''

''You're angry,'' he grabs a hold of my shoulders, ''I get it. But you're not gonna risk your life over it. Besides, I need you here. Every gunner except me and Jasper stays.''

''You know I can track Murphy down in less than an hour.''

''And then what, you're gonna kill him?'' he looks me in the eyes, ''We both know you couldn't. So let the Grounders do the dirty work,'' - he turns to Jasper - ''Two guns, you and me. That's it. Raven stays here to build up defenses. We lost a day because of this, and our gunpowder. Raven!''

''Bellamy, wait. Look, I just- Thank you,'' Jasper just hugs Bellamy suddenly like Bell is his new favorite person in the world, ''Long way from whatever the hell you want','' he says.

I smile despite myself, in all that anger and confusion and hectic mess.

''Get ready, we're leaving asap. Everyone back on their task.''

Jasper nods eagerly and storms right out, Octavia walking away somewhat reluctantly. Now that we're alone, Bellamy's entire demeanor changes when he steps up to me.

''You alright?'' he asks gently, his hand caressing my cheek.

''You kidding me?'' I almost chuckle, ''Murphy hanged you. Are _you_ okay?''

The corners of his lips curve up in a slight smile. ''Get something cold on your cheek,'' he says instead, ''It will bruise like hell.''

''Maybe I'll scare off the Grounders then,'' I grin, to which he actually laughs, albeit weakly.

''I'm leaving everything to you and Miller, you're in command now,'' he says, ''Stay sharp.''

''You'll be right back-''

''If the Grounders come, get everyone ready to fight-''

''You'll be back by then!''

''Maybe,'' he smiles, but it's kind of sad. I kiss him. ''And when I'm back you're gonna fill me in on the whole Murphy story,'' he adds.

''Promise,'' I give him a smile.

Miller interrupts us on the radio.

_''All gunners! We got movement outside the south wall!''_

We storm out, my hands tighter on the rifle, running toward the wall, ready to aim. Commotion. Everyone ready to shoot. Everyone ready to jump out of their skin.

''Someone's coming! Get ready!''

''Stay together!'' 

''Wait! Hold your fire!''

''Clarke and Finn! Open the gate!''

''Get it! Get the gate! Move it! Move it! Clarke and Finn!''

''They're back!''

''Oh, my God,'' I laugh, seeing Clarke and Finn walk into camp, ''Looks like your search may be cut shorter,'' I tell Bellamy, grinning from ear to ear. He smiles back.

''Hey, we heard an explosion. What happened?'' Clarke explains. 

''Murphy happened.'' 

''Where have you been?'' I ask, ''Where's Monty?''

''Monty's gone?'' Clarke asks.

''Clarke, we need to leave, now,'' Finn argues, ''All of us do. There's an army of grounders, unlike anything we've ever seen, coming for us right now. We need to pack what we can and run.''

''Like hell we do,'' Bellamy replies, ''We knew this was coming.''

''Bell, we're not prepared,'' Octavia insists.

''And they're not here yet. We still have time to get ready. Besides, where would we go? Where would we be safer than behind these walls?''

''There's an ocean to the east,'' Finn says, ''People there will help us.''

''You saw Lincoln,'' Octavia notes.

''Yeah.''

''You expect us to trust a grounder?'' Bellamy replies, then turns toward the gathered crowd, ''This is our home now. We built this from nothing with our bare hands! Our dead are buried behind that wall in this ground! Our ground! The grounders think they can take that away. They think that because we came from the sky, we don't belong here. But they're yet to realize one very important fact: We are on the ground now, and that means we are grounders!''

''Yeah!'' the crowd takes up the cheer.

''Grounders with guns!''

''Damn right! I say let 'em come!''

''Bellamy's right,'' Clarke says, ''If we leave, we may never find a place as safe as this. And God knows, in this world, we could be faced with something even worse tomorrow. But that doesn't change the simple fact that if we stay here, we will die tonight. So pack your things. Just take what you can carry, now.''

The crowd is calm again now, swayed to the other side. Bellamy seems to have lost the argument, and it's a good thing too. ''Live to fight another day,'' I tell him and take his hand. He gives me a look of uncertainty. He doesn't trust this option much either. 

The crowd around us disperses, getting to their task of packing.

''Where is he?!'' I hear Raven's hectic cries, only to turn and find her limping with a bullet inside of her, blood dripping down her leg.

''Raven!

''Finn, get her in the Drop-Ship!'' Clarke orders, as we all rush to help her.

*

Clarke and Finn fill us in on everything they've been through and learned while Clarke deals with Raven's wound. They had themselves in quite a mess out there, and they have just about as much of an idea about where Monty is as us. I hope against all reason that he's okay.

''That should stop the external bleeding,'' Clarke says, finishing up.

''I don't understand. How did Murphy get a gun?'' Finn asks.

''Long story,'' Bell and I reply at the same time.

''We got lucky,'' Raven replies, ''If Murphy hit the fuel tank instead of me, we'd all be dead.''

''Wait, there's rocket fuel down there? Enough to build a bomb?''

''Enough to build a hundred bombs if we had any gunpowder left.''

''Let's get back to the reapers,'' Bellamy says, ''Maybe they'll help us. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend,' right?''

''Not this enemy,'' Clarke replies, ''We saw them, trust me. That's not an option.''

''There's no time for this,'' Finn says, ''Can she walk or not?''

''No. We have to carry her.''

''Like hell you will, I'm good to go!''

''Hey! Listen to me,'' Clarke stops her, ''That bullet is still inside you. If by some miracle there's no internal bleeding, it might hold until we get somewhere safe. But you are not walking there. Is that clear?''

Raven pauses in defeat for a moment. ''Yeah.''

''I'll get the stretcher,'' Finn rushes.

''Can't run away fast enough, huh?'' Bellamy taunts, ''Real brave.''

''Dying in a fight you can't win isn't brave, Bellamy,'' Finn replies, ''It's stupid.''

''Spoken like every coward who's ever run from a fight.''

''Bellamy, give it a break,'' I say, ''You know he's right.''

''It's time to go,'' Clarke agrees.

''If they follow, it's a 120 mile walk to the ocean,'' Bellamy argues.

''Look, we're wasting time! If he wants to stay, he can stay,'' Finn says.

''No, he can't!'' Clarke insists, ''We can't do this without you, Bellamy.''

''What do you want me to say, Clarke?''

''I want you to say that you're with us. Those kids out there, they listen to you.''

''They're lining up to go. They listen to you more.''

''I gave them an easy choice. But five minutes ago, they were willing to fight and die for you. You inspire them. And I am afraid we're gonna need that again before this day is through.''

I give him an encouraging squeeze of a hand. It may have worked as a small push.

''What about Monty?'' I ask.

''We don't know where he is, and we have nothing to follow up on,'' Clarke says, ''We'd be wasting precious time.''

''But what if he comes back and finds this place empty? We can't just leave him alone like that,'' I argue.

''We'll keep an eye out once we're out there,'' Bellamy tells me, and with my hand in his, it sounds like a promise, ''You and me.''

''Okay.''

''Okay then,'' he smiles, but a frown still creases his face.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They stare Death in the face. They're scared, but they stand their ground.

Leaving isn't easy. The walls we worked on day and night to build. The outposts from which we watched to protect this place. The Drop-Ship itself, offering some safety and protection from whatever was out there. The tents in which we slept, the fires around which we sat. Bellamy's tent and his cot where I grabbed my hours of sleep between shifts. The graves which we'd probably never again be able to visit, and no one would know that Wells lies there, and Atom, and Myles, and Derek, and all the others. Like they never even existed. Like they never fought.

It is hard not to think about this as I pack, essentials only. Ammo checked, gun strapped, knife on my belt, bow and quiver over my shoulder. We're taking so little, but leaving so much behind. 

Suddenly, I have an idea.

It takes me about an hour to finish the thing, just as much as it takes the whole camp to get ready and get going.

_''MONTY WE WENT EAST TO THE OCEAN THEY WILL TAKE YOU IN''_

''If he's smart as I know he is, he won't come back here,'' Bellamy says, admiring my big inscription on the Drop-Ship wall - it's probably dulled my knife quite a bit, ''He knows the Grounders are coming.''

''Have you met Monty? He'd never leave us to fight alone.''

*

''Okay, here we go!''

''Guns at the ready!''

''Keep your eyes open!'' 

''Gunners flank the rest,'' Miller goes over the formation plan again, ''Gunners at the van, gunners at the tail too. Got it? Everyone else, stay inside and keep formation.''

I'm at the van with Miller, with Octavia, much to Bellamy's protests. Though it's the least safe position, I need to see. I need to be in control. No matter what comes.

I don't turn back once we leave. If I look back on the Drop-Ship, my heart will break. So we go on, carefully, quietly, but hurriedly. On alert.

As time passes, some of our fear seemingly evaporates. With every mile we cover, we stand more of a chance at getting away from the Grounders. Nothing is happening. _We might make it._

''You know the first thing I'm gonna do when I get to the beach?'' Miller asks.

''No, what?'' Drew asks.

''You're probably just gonna throw yourself in the water to wash the stink away once this hike is through, trust me,'' I grin.

''No, but listen,'' Miller announces a bit theatrically, ''I... am going surfing.''

''If you can make a decent surfboard,'' I say.

''Which I can.''

''Give it to Raven, she might install a motor in it at this rate,'' I grin.

''Then you could drive your ass to Europe,'' Drew motions with his hand.

I snort. ''Drew, you know nothing.''

''Quiet,'' Jasper hushes us, ''Keep your eyes open.''

''Relax, Jasper, we're whispering,'' I say.

''But imagine,'' Drew goes on, ''No more woods. A view of the ocean. No more damn trees, just pale, blue water.''

''I don't know, I kinda like the trees,'' I say. Drew and Miller scowl at me and give me that exactly-how-crazy-are-you look.

''Stop, stop, stop.''

The hush goes through the formation. We stop. Fear comes back. My hands hold the M16 tight, already sweating a bit. Heart rate already accelerating. I look around. I see nothing.

''What is it?'' I ask Octavia, uneasy.

''What is it?'' 

''Why are we stopping?'' the whispers travel through the crowd. 

''I don't know. I don't see anything.''

A blade strikes Drew right in the face. He falls next to my feet, head split, dead.

_Dead._

And that could have been me.

''GROUNDERS!!!!''

''Move, move, move!''

''I don't see anyone!''

''They're right behind us!''

''Go, go, go!''

We run. 

We run back toward the camp, and I run with a gun ready but I still see nothing. They don't attack again, and I realize half through the run that they're herding us back. Yet again. But we have no choice.

''Behind the wall!''

''Shut the gate! Shut the gate!''

Silence. We stand ready, guns poised, everyone on their position. We wait. I look out through the scope, sheltered behind the wall. My heart beats too damn fast, but my hands are steady. I see nothing out there.

''Where are they? Why aren't they attacking?'' Bellamy asks.

''Because we're doing exactly what they wanted us to do,'' Clarke says, reading my mind.

''What are you talking about?''

''They herded us back here,'' I say desperately. 

''Lincoln said the scouts would be the first to arrive,'' Clarke says. 

''If it's just scouts, we can fight our way out,'' Octavia insists, ''That's what Lincoln would do.''

''We're done doing what that grounder would do,'' Bellamy replies, ''We tried it, and now Drew is dead. You wanna be next?''

''That grounder saved their lives,'' I say, ''And a grounder pretty much saved mine. You wanna just forget about that fact?''

''Exactly,'' Finn says, ''And I agree with Octavia. For all we know there's one scout out there.''

''One scout with insanely good aim,'' Jasper quips.

''Clarke, we can still do this,'' Octavia practically begs. What's the right choice? Clarke stands there, weighing it out. And we're running out of time.

''Looking to you, princess,'' Bellamy says, ''What's it gonna be? Run and get picked off out in the open, or stand and fight back?''

''Clarke,'' Finn starts, ''If we're still here when Tristan gets here-'' 

''Lincoln said "scouts. " More than one. He said, "get home before the scouts arrive. " Finn, they're already here,'' she says, turning to Bellamy, ''Looks like you've got your fight.''

''Okay, then!'' he announces, ''This is what we've been preparing for! Kill them before they kill us! Gunners, to your posts! Use the tunnels to get in and out! From now on, the gate stays closed!''

Everyone is rushing to their position as I just stand there for a moment, frozen, more afraid than I ever realized. Finn has his hands on his head, exasperated, desperate, devastated.

''Come on,'' Miller gives me a push, ''On me.''

I give Finn one final look before we tear off through the tunnel.

*

We get to our positions, somewhat hidden, guns ready, awaiting orders. 

''O, you don't have a gun,'' I note.

''But I've got this,'' she shows me the machete.

''Lincoln?''

''Yeah.''

''Hope he taught you how to use it.''

 _''All foxholes, listen up,''_ Bellamy's voice sounds through Miller's walkie-talkie, _''Keep your eyes and ears open. Inflict casualties, as many as possible. You can hold them off long enough to make them turn back. That's the plan.''_

''Great,'' I breathe, taking Miller's radio, ''Bellamy, we won't have enough ammo to get them to turn back.''

 _''We've got those landmines too,''_ he argues, _''Remember, we don't have to kill them all, we just have to make them think we're not worth the trouble. If we can make them turn back, that's victory.''_

''Crap.''

And then we wait. Soon enough we're filled in on the rest of the plan, the whole incinerating grounders Raven style play. Then it's certain it's our duty to hold the Grounders off as long as we can. I don't think we can.

We wait until dark. Until the war drums start booming through the air. And suddenly I am so scared I feel I could genuinely cry, if not for the shock of it all.

Monroe doesn't seem to be doing any better either, she's on the edge of a full on panic attack. Miller is the calmest, eyes flawlessly trained ahead. Just us three on this foxhole now.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

_Dum, dum, dum, dum, dum, dum._

The sound don't exactly instill bravery and confidence.

Bellamy joins us, jumps right in. ''Where's Octavia?''

''She left 5 minutes ago, didn't say where to,'' Miller replies, ''She thinks she's a damn samurai.''

''You see anything?'' Bellamy asks me. 

''Not a damn thing,'' I say, my voice literally shaking.

''What the hell are they waiting for?'' Monroe wails, and I really think she'll start crying.

''The longer they wait, the better,'' Bellamy says, ''This is about buying time for Raven.''

 _''I see them, they're moving! I count two, 3, no, wait, there's more! I don't know, man, there's too damn many of them!''_ a voice sounds through the radio. 

''Who was that?'' I ask, voice shaking even more.

''Sterling, I think,'' Miller says, ''South foxhole!''

''South foxhole, report now,'' Bellamy calls.

 _''Yeah, yeah. We're ok,''_ Sterling replies, _''They didn't attack, it's like shooting at ghosts.''_

''There!'' I see one, moving like a shadow, one moment there, another gone, ''Did you see that?'' I panic.

''Another one!'' Monroe cries, and then there are two, three, four, five of them, running like shadows around us, and before another thought Monroe and Miller are shooting, at what I don't know, because not even my eyes can catch one, let alone my bullet.

''Stop! Stop! Hold your fire! Hold your fire!,'' Bellamy stops them, ''Reload. Now.''

''Those were our last clips,'' Miller says, his gun clicking empty, my heart falling into the heels of my feet.

''We should- We should fall back,'' Monroe stutters.

''We can't,'' I almost cry, re-adjusting my rifle nervously, ''We're what's keeping them from our front door.''

''Exactly,'' Bellamy positions himself too, ''This position can't fall.''

An explosion booms somewhere to our left. 

''At least we know the mines are working,'' Miller says; Jasper shouts as much through the radio, like he's just gotten the best Unity Day present ever.

 _''Jasper, we need you in the Drop-Ship right now,''_ Clarke calls.

''Negative,'' Bellamy replies, ''We can't give up the west woods.''

_''The west woods are mined, Bellamy. The grounders just figured that out. Jasper, get in here.''_

''I can take his spot,'' I offer.

''No one's changing position now,'' Bellamy insists, before firing at a Grounder running up ahead.

He has to have missed him. They are elusive, impossible to catch. I aim, but the Grounder move the moment I train my gun on him. By now I've already wasted a full clip on nothing. We'd run out of bullets soon.

''This is insane, it's impossible,'' I breathe, shook to the bone. Bellamy fires again. Nothing. It's like they're making us waste bullets on purpose.

_Of course._

_''All gunners, listen up,''_ Jasper calls, _''The grounders are not attacking, they're making us waste bullets. Don't shoot when they're running laterally!''_

''Jasper's right. Don't fire until you're sure it's attack,'' Bellamy announcs, ''Repeat, do not fire until you are sure.''

No one fires. No Grounders appear again either. They've figured it out that we're onto them.

More waiting. More horrible, painful, anxious, horrifying waiting.

Until - for the first time today - they actually attack. 

''Here they come!'' Miller announces, as the silhouettes near from the bushes. 

Monroe runs, I see it in my peripheral vision, but my feet are glued to the ground even as the Grounders near me. Bellamy and I stand shooting, and I spend every single bullet I have before they reach us. I hardly miss a few. Grounders drop dead one by one by my doing, until they no longer do, and I am out of bullets, and one is suddenly face to face with me before he topples me over to the ground. The rifle is no longer in my hands, useless as it is.

The Grounder is almost too heavy for me to breathe, let alone fight him off. But he's pulled back, just to be able to swing his axe and send it right into my skull. My reflexes save my life when I half-roll to the side and the axe gets stuck in the ground instead. Too close for comfort, and too little time bought. The axe is up in the air again. 

And I'm pretty sure I'm breathing my last.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Half the battle goes on on the inside. Survival's in the head - in holding it together and using your wits. No loose cannons ever win. Natasha Parish has always known this, but now it's not in theory but in practice.

They say your entire life flashes before your eyes in that one moment before your death. Mine didn't. I guess it was because that was just not how my story was supposed to end.

It's Miller that saves my life this time, plunging one of their spears into the man on top of me. As the Grounder topples over, the axe falls too damn close once again. I roll the body off of me, ridiculously heavy. Miller offers me a hand just as I see Octavia offer hers to Bellamy.

''What would you do without us,'' Miller smirks.

''You're hurt,'' I notice, seeing a gaping wound on his shoulder.

''Admit it,'' Octavia cleans her machete, ''You want one.''

An arrow flies past Miller, and finds its home right in Octavia's leg.

''O!''

''Hey,'' Bellamy picks her up, ''Hold on to me! Let me get you behind that wall. We fall back!''

''Come on, buddy,'' I say, ripping the lower half of my undershirt to try and quickly dress Nathan's wound. He isn't bleeding alarmingly, but the way it's open, he can get it infected and die from that instead. Though the first wave of the attack is over, we still have to move fast. More will surely come despite the fact that we've gunned down the first advances.

It's nothing but dumb luck that we've managed to get behind our walls on time, because the moment we're there is the moment we see them - hundreds of them running through the woods, most rushing toward us, ready to storm the camp. I find my place next to Monroe who's apparently managed to get both more ammo and more courage. Miller can barely hold his rifle what with the damaged shoulder, whereas I'm emptying my last, missing too damn many of them in all that panic. 

And as much as the gunners are taking them down, more and more are coming, faster, shouting their war-cries. We're going to die. _If Raven doesn't do it in just about a couple of minutes, we're all dead._

My gun clicks its last. I throw it to the ground and swing the bow up and forward. Notch an arrow. Realize many of them have broken during my first meeting with the Grounders. I curse. I want to cry. But unleash the arrow nevertheless.

I aim for the grounder running the fastest to my direction, and fucking hell, most of them are running zig-zag still, and I'm not as good with the bow, especially not with a moving target. But I let it fly, and it finds home in the Grounder's shoulder. It barely staggers him; if nothing, it just seems to make him angrier, the way he leads the van snarling as they run toward us. 

I notch another one. Unleash it. This time, not by skill, but pure chance and panic, it gets stuck in his neck. He falls down, gurgling on blood. I take a painful breath. My throat is dry and chafing. This isn't happening. I didn't just do that.

And then, almost suddenly, but not at all - they're no longer silhouettes in the distance, once again we will be face to face in a matter of moments. I've already faced death; I'm not eager to do it again. It's as though Miller reads my thoughts:

''There are too many! Everybody to the Drop-Ship now!''

''No! We need more time,'' Clarke shouts from the door, ''Gunners, stay at your posts! The rest of you, inside! Come on, quick!''

''It's just us now,'' Miller says as the crowd ran into the Drop-Ship, and he sounds terrified.

''We happy few, we band of brothers,'' I say, more to myself, as I watch the avalanche up and coming, ''For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother.''

Miller takes another shot, then gives me a weird look.

''Shakespeare-''

''I know it's Shakespeare.''

Everyone who isn't a shooter is in the Drop-Ship, and we few remain as the last defense, and though I'm not eager to die, suddenly, in this moment, it doesn't matter. Knowing those kids are in the Drop-Ship, suddenly really _knowing_ they depend on us - it's bigger than me.

''Where's Bellamy and Octavia?'' I ask, no one in particular, whoever would listen, suddenly more afraid than I've been since the start. I never noticed they're gone. In all that commotion, we've lost them, and I never even realized. Miller just shakes his head in reply.

I don't explain it when I tear off again, right through the tunnel, making for the outside, retracing steps, bow in hand and knife secured on my belt. If they aren't back yet, that means they're either dead or in trouble. In either case, I need to get there.

Half the route toward the north foxhole is mostly clear, the Grounders have already overrun the north woods, and I can still see them, running, incoming, skulking through the shades of the trees. I keep to shadows myself, knowing that by myself I'm not exactly an eye-sore, but if they notice I'm one of the Skypeople I'll be dead from a mile distance. They are too busy rushing ahead though, and it gives me more or less of a safe passage.

I find the Blakes' tracks soon enough, they lead away from the scene. Bellamy probably wanted to find a safe spot for Octavia where she could ride this whole thing out. A bright light in the sky stops my chain of thoughts. 

I look up, and it's like the whole world has gone silent. The war cries can no longer be heard either. No one could possibly look away from the sight of the Ark falling down.

The Ark. Falling to the ground.

It's burning, and falling fast, and very soon splitting into parts and causing explosions throughout the patch of sky. I force my eyes away. No use thinking about death when there are yet living to care for.

I seem to come right in the middle of farewells, as Octavia is hugging Bellamy so tight and Bellamy looks so fragile I think he might break. Lincoln lifts the girl up then, and I'm instantly certain of what's going on.

''You're alright,'' I breathe. That's what matters most.

''Tasha!'' Bellamy hugs me in just two long strides, ''We have to go, come on.''

''Wait,'' I say, rushing up to Lincoln - Octavia looks small in his arms, and she's been crying too, ''A proper goodbye, O. Sorry for being a bitch sometimes.''

She grins, but her eyes are full of tears. Mine are too; suddenly I'm feeling so damn emotional.

''Right back at ya,'' she says, ''You take care of my stubborn big brother now.''

'' _You_ take care out there. Stay safe.''

Lincoln nods, and with a final ''May we meet again'' and Octavia's hand in Bellamy's, they're gone.

Bellamy really looks almost broken.

''She's strong, and he's good for her,'' I tell him.

''I know,'' he says, ''Come on, we need to get outta here.''

We run, and almost run right into the Grounders battling with reapers. Bellamy pulls us behind a tree as we watch one of the skirmishes go down - I don't know about Bellamy but it's my first time seeing those wretched creatures and somehow I think death by Grounders would be merciful in comparison.

''How?'' I ask.

''Finn's idea,'' Bellamy explains, ''With Lincoln's help. He led them here.''

''That boy,'' I shake my head slightly, not finishing the sentence, experiencing another surge of emotions.

''He has his moments,'' Bellamy gives me a small smile.

''Don't disappear on us like that again,'' I argue.

''You shouldn't have come after us, that was reckless-''

''You were either dead or in trouble, in which case, I had to,'' I say, deciding to quote him, ''We don't abandon our own, right?''

The corners of his lips curve up in a hint of a smile. ''Right. Come on, we need to get back to our people.''

The moment they've defeated the Reapers, the Grounders are storming the gate, and we run to the other side, squeeze through the secret tunnel, and by the time we're in, the walls are already lost.

We've entered a slaughterhouse.

''No,'' Bellamy says, but I can't hear him anymore, I can't hear almost anything but my own blood pulsating through my head. The kids are being cut down, put to the sword like it's the easiest thing in the world. Bellamy seems to have grabbed one of the Grounders' weapons somehow; engaging with them in all his fury and somehow not failing, not falling. Not yet at least. I can't help him from the ground. Which is why I'm already climbing the east wall, then the outpost, then the tree, up up up.

I rain arrows down upon them. I make it pour. Suddenly calm, composed, centered - I make almost every one of them count. I can see Finn and Bellamy down there, both somehow holding their own. Soon enough even the gunners are retreating into the Drop-Ship, they have to, the camp is overrun, there are too many of the Grounders, they have to fall back and close that damn door and roast these motherfuckers to the bone. 

Most have made it inside by the time the door is up and sealed. Not Finn and Bellamy though, and I barely even have time to be scared. The Grounders seem to claw at the walls trying to get inside, trying to literally climb them somehow. They start using the remnants of the outer walls and outposts, the trees around even. I've long lost sight of Bellamy and Finn by the time the two Grounders below me try to cut me down with spears.

I go up, unsteadily. The branches up are thinner and more elastic and unsafe, barely holding my feet, but I need to get away, and they don't have to hold very long. Soon enough arrows start whizzing past me. I climb further up, but it goes too damn slowly, they'll shoot me down soon. Not to mention that once the rockets blast off, the tree will take fire too. But it'd take a while for the flames to climb up. I'd think about that and getting down later. I need to stay alive now.

Up I go. They are snarling and shouting something and sending weapons up my way and arrows keep whizzing past until one doesn't and instead strikes me right in the calf. It's mid-step too, and the pain of it makes me slip off and the only thing that saves me from a clumsy fall into the hands of the Grounders is the instinct of catching a branch with my hands. My arms aren't very strong though and I won't be able to hold on for very long. I wiggle, trying to get a foothold, trying to move before another arrow strikes me - or worse, a spear - and I meet my end. 

Heat of a thousand suns covers my skin; blinding light engulfs all. The screams that never even started, the calm that came too soon. And the smell of burnt meat and bones that fills the air. It happens in a single moment. Just one furious, blinding moment for all that death.

I can't quite believe it. I open my eyes to find the ground black, charred, dead. Mostly, there is no fire - the blast has gone as it has come. Only small growth and trunks of some trees still burn, one of those trees being my own.

 _Finn and Bellamy_ , I think, but I climb up instead, finding foothold, one foot then another, slowly, feebly. I don't know where I'm pulling my strength from. The flames below aren't hungry and wild, and they still climb slowly and steadily. I have to jump off.

I find a steady branch, and break off the shaft of the arrow in my calf. It hurts to stand, but I have to jump. I prepare to jump away from the flames and outside the walls, envision my fall - it has to be on my side, fall broken by arm and hip, or I could break a leg or something else. I can't do with anything broken, not out here.

As the flames lick higher, I throw down my bow and quiver, then jump, and the impact of it has me roll a few times away. The pain that surges within me is dull, I'll be bruised but luckily not broken, I know. Nothing is dislocated either. The pain in my calf is the worst, I can only assume what kind of arrowhead is on that shaft, not to mention if it's poisoned or not. But I need to get to the Drop-Ship now, bang on those doors and shout that it's safe now and that they open for me, I'm fucking wounded.

I can hear the familiar sound of the Drop-Ship door falling open just as I try to get up on my feet steadily again. Relief surges through me, but I've barely picked up my stuff off the ground when I hear commotion again. I can't see anyone yet from outside the walls, all I see are sudden puffs of smoke and color and I think it's some after-effect of the rocket blasts. By the time I realize it's probably - somehow, inexplicably - another attack, I can do nothing but run and hide. Wounded, battered, with no arrows and one knife, I can do nothing. If I jump in there, I'll only die.

I have to wait it out, maybe think of some other way.

I need to live if I want answers.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasha's inner survivor kicks in again. She meets an unlikely friend. She doesn't get to catch a breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, another chapter I had fun writing!

It's becoming increasingly hard to move. The arrowhead is intact and not moving much so it doesn't allow much bleeding, but it doesn't take me long to realize and feel the effects of the poison. I know where I have to go if I want to live. The only place I can go.

Lincoln's cave.

He has to have left a lot behind - he'd surely only packed essentials before he made off with Octavia - and if I see the antidote we used on Finn and O, I will surely recognize it. If there is no antidote, well... then I'm dead.

The problem is getting there. I've been there before, and I know how to find my way from where I now am - that's not a problem. The problem is my leg, and my fever, and my exhaustion, and dawn is breaking. I am alone, exposed, weak, wounded and hardly armed. It won't take much effort now to kill me, whoever comes my way.

I stagger ahead, trying not to put pressure on my right leg, trying not to faint with my now accelerated breathing and heartbeat. I feel dizzy, and even one step ahead is exhausting. Arrhythmia and lung blockage. 

This is bad. If my lungs get just a bit more clogged, I won't be able to move anymore. I'm sweating as fever shakes me - hot sweat, cold sweat, cyclically. My legs - or leg, more like - are too weak. I can't go on, and yet I do - mind over matter. I am closer now. 

I crawl - I have to now - and the more ground I manage to cover the more I rely on my hands and less on my legs, ending up just dragging them behind me. It's exhausting. I am wheezing, I can barely breathe, especially once liquid starts forming in my lungs and coughing bouts seize me when it's hard enough to breathe without it. I think my heart will burst even before my lungs betray me, at the speed that it beats. I literally claw at the ground to get into Lincoln's tunnel. 

And I've clawed my way to it.

_I did it._

Scraped elbows and knees and pain everywhere, I make my way through, hurrying more now, pulling my last bits of strength out of God knows where - because dying here would be unacceptable. I am so close, so damn close. 

Proning. One hand in front of the other. One leg after the other. My lungs work less and less. My ''breathing'' can be heard outside. 

So close. Just a bit further. Just a few more pulls of my hands. Just a bit more strength for my arms.

Until I tumble through and land on the cold floor of the cave. The impact as I land on my back has most of what little air there is in my lungs just escape me.

''Fuck,'' I growl, turning over. I need to get back on all fours. I need to find Lincoln's stash.

I hear the unmistakable sound of a bow string being pulled behind me.

_''Don't. Move.''_

*

_No way._

_No fucking way._

I freeze, lying belly down on the ground.

''Waste of an arrow,'' I manage to wheeze out, ''I suggest... you wait a minute instead.''

Darkness takes over me.

*

When I wake up, it takes me a moment to realize where I am and what has happened and what kind of situation I am in. I find myself on a makeshift cot, next to a fire. Still in Lincoln's cave.

 _Then_ I'm alarmed.

When I try to scramble up and move, worse pain than ever before shoots through my leg, and it's beyond me when I cry the hell out. So much for stealth and silence. The animals in the forest above me could have heard my growls.

I lift the pelt I'm half-covered with to look at my leg, only to find blood gushing out of the wound. No arrowhead.

I panic again.

''I said don't move,'' he says, that voice again, and I don't recognize him the moment I see him - all I see is a huge person and a looming shadow covering half the lit up cave and all I've known is Grounders and death so how could I have possibly reacted any differently than I do when I make for my knife?

But when I feel up, it isn't on my belt. 

More panic. Another mini heart-attack.

The man pushes me back to the ground, back to a lying position, and I am so weak, there is no fighting him. I'm not sure I would be able to fight him even with my full strength and health intact. He holds me down with one hand only.

With the other he pulls out a red hot dagger right off the coals.

I squirm against him, head unclear, thoughts a mess, alarmed, because someone helping me in this moment is the last God damn possibility on my mind.

''Stay still,'' he growls, easily managing to keep me down, and when he presses that blade against my flesh I scream out until the blackness takes me again.

*

I wake up feeling almost as weak as I felt with that virus in my system. My lungs work properly and my heart beats steadily though, which is a relief. My leg still hurts and burns, but there is something cold and soothing on it. I still have a fever, or the last remnants of it. I'm not as cold.

I open my eyes.

''You're awake.''

I turn around to meet the source of the voice, but too fast - it's another one of those splitting headaches that rampages through my skull.

''Easy,'' the man says, reading my expression of pain. He's sitting on the other side of a fire, sharpening a knife. _My_ knife.

For the first time since I tumbled in here, I look up at his face. And I almost think I'm dreaming.

''Rand?''

How? What is he doing here? What has happened? His people- My people!

''The wound won't fester but you need to lie low, regain your strength,'' he says, ''The poison is still not out of your system completely.''

''What are you doing here?''

''What are _you_ doing here?'' he asks.

''Medicine. I was dying,'' I oblige him, ''This was the only place I could go.''

''I am glad you didn't die with the rest,'' he says.

''Why are you helping me?''

''Why wouldn't I? I have no quarrel with you.''

''But your people do. With my people.''

''I am no longer with my people,'' he replies, ''And as far as I can tell, you're not either.''

''I need to get back to the Drop-Ship,'' I sit up hurriedly, pushing off the pelt. I should have recognized that as a bad idea before another bout of sharp pain spreads through my skull with the force of twenty hammers.

''You won't find anyone there,'' he replies calmly, casually, like it's nothing.

''What-?''

''Your people. They're not there. The Mountain Men surely took whoever survived.''

''The Mountain Men?'' I'd heard Octavia mention them to us, but none of us really knew what any of that meant.

''See, both our people are stupid,'' he says instead of a reply, still sharpening the blade, ''We knew they were coming. They always come, it's just a matter of when. And while we were slaughtering each other, all the Mountain Men had to do was simply swoop in.''

''What are you talking about?'' This is too much for my still feverish head. I'm not getting any of it. Mountain Men? Is there another clan of Grounders that's a bigger threat, a threat to all of us?

''It doesn't matter,'' he says, ''Your people are gone. Mountain-bound. There's nothing you can do for them now.''

''I'll be the judge of that,'' I growl, suddenly angry, ''If they're alive, I'm not sitting idly.''

''And what will you do, hmm? Storm a mountain full of Mountain Men by yourself and rescue your friends? With your bow and arrows. They might even be dead by now.''

''Bellamy-,'' I say, my voice breaking a bit, ''And all of my friends, they- I know they survived. And if they're alive, somewhere-''

''What, girl? What will you do?''

''I will turn the world upside down if need be,'' I say, almost through my teeth, almost shaking, determined, ''But for now, the basics. Tell me everything you know about these Mountain Men.''

*

Rand talks for an hour or so. I listen, putting the pieces together. By what I've gathered, the Mountain Men are quite technologically advanced - they're more like us than the Grounders. Which makes the whole thing even more weird. I can't understand why someone would literally abduct people. Kill them on spot? Sure. But take them alive? Why? And especially if they're a civilized people - why?

The fact that there are people on this God forsaken planet with technology similar to ours is mindblowing of its own. It's hardly sinking in.

''They take people, and they take them away to the mountain,'' I recap, trying to digest it all.

Rand gives a solemn nod. ''None ever return.''

''We'll see about that.''

I have no idea how I could ever help them, but I'm not accepting the fact that they're gone either. If they're gone, I'm gone too. What would I do for the rest of my days - live with Rand in Lincoln's cave and try not to die each time I step outside? No. I've already lost everything. During all this time on Earth I never realized I gained something too. A family. 

I can't lose a family again. I don't have that kind of strength in me.

''What are you doing here, Rand?''

He pauses for a moment as he cooks something over the fire, before he indulges me with an answer.

''I refused to march. That's desertion, by law,'' he says, ''My life was spared, but I was exiled.''

''Well, I'm glad you're alive,'' I say honestly, ''How did you find this place? Did you know Lincoln?''

''Somewhat. He's a good man. Wise. The type of man people should listen to,'' he says, stirring something in the pot - my stomach grumbles at the smell, ''But they never do.''

''Yeah, we have someone like that too,'' I smile, thinking of Finn.

He pours some of the steaming hot stew into a bowl and hands it to me.

''Eat. You have to, if you want your strength back.''

''I do need to get back to the Drop-Ship,'' I say, taking the wooden bowl. It's pleasantly warm in my hands, and it smells better than I remember food smelling.

''I told you, you won't find anyone-''

''I know,'' I say, ''But I need to go, regardless. I need to see. I have to start somewhere.''


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasha means to refuse the most reasonable proposal anyone's ever given her.

I've barely moved from my cot for three days. The only movement I am allowed to have is a short walk around the cave a few times a day, though it's more of a hop on one leg than an actual walk. I have to stay off my right leg for a while if I want it to heal properly. The arrow had gone deeper than I even thought, tearing some muscle tissue that now has to grow back. If I put pressure on it, it will take much much longer.

It's probably the three worst days of my life. I'm safe, I'm fed, I'm getting healthier - and yet the not knowing of what's happening to my friends has me going crazy. To say I'm restless would be an understatement; the fact that I have to sit around and do nothing while who knows what is happening to them - to Bellamy - it's nerve-wrecking. I try not to think of the worst. If they're taken, that means they are not necessarily wanted dead. They would have been shot on the spot if that was the case.

But that's what's confusing. The more I think about the Mountain Men, the less I understand. It's as though they're a riddle just about impossible to solve, and what little information Rand has provided doesn't exactly put the pieces together for me. Nothing about it makes sense. If they don't want them dead, what do they want from my friends?

Rand leaves the cave for a few hours every day. I don't know what I hate more - staying back in the cave bored by myself and going nuts or the fact that he's allowed a stroll through the woods for fresh air and I'm not.

Of course, it's not just going for a stroll for him. He scouts the area every day. I don't know how far he goes. He makes sure to watch out for signs of Mountain Men, or outlaws, or any other possible danger to us. To my insisting, he makes sure to watch out for signs of survivors, or escapees, or any sign of my people, anything that would be of value to me. He gathers supplies and hunts. He's being useful.

Unlike me.

''I can't do this anymore, Rand,'' I tell him when he comes back, three squirrels on a rope hanging across his shoulder.

''Yu laik nou yuj pleni yet _(You are not strong enough yet)_ ,'' he only says.

''And every minute I spend sitting here might be precious time lost for my friends,'' I practically beg, ''I need to do something.''

''Not in English.''

''Ai... souda... go kom em,'' I struggle putting even the simplest sentence together. Luckily, I've always had a knack for languages, and Trigedasleng still keeps the basis of English, so it's easy to see the logical way in which it works. But remembering words, however, isn't exactly the easiest. Actually, it's far from easy.

''That's too simple,'' he smirks.

''I can't believe I'm stuck here. Learning a language and losing time-''

''You're stuck here learning a language that could save your life. That's not wasted time,'' he argues, doing something in the small pantry, ''You're the one that's so bent on leaving here as soon as possible. If you're going to be roaming the land by yourself, you might not want to stick out as one of your Sky People.''

''Well, I'm not exactly dressed as a Grounder-''

''No English.''

''Ai laik nou... akin... kom yu,'' I almost groan, ''Kom tri kru.''

Rand laughs, he gets a real good warm-hearted chuckle out of my broken Trigedasleng. ''That was really poor.''

''Hey! It's been three days.''

''Fair enough,'' he nods with a smile, now chopping something up - one of the squirrels probably, ''I've been to your ship.''

''And?!''

''Nothing,'' he says, his tone going solemn, ''Death and dust. Bones and ashes.''

''Any tracks?!''

''Plenty. Of Mountain Men, and of my people as well. Scavengers. They picked up whatever was left.''

My heart sinks. I wasn't exactly expecting anything more than that, but it's still defeating.

''I found an inscription though. Might be one of your people, maybe,'' he ads, sounding like he doesn't believe it but suggests it just to indulge me.

''That,'' I smile, ''I left that for Monty before we were about to leave, in case he came back and found the camp emp-''

''Not that one.''

''What?!''

''Chalk. It's wiped out mostly. Rains.''

''What did it say?!''

''It's not legible,'' he says, and adds an ''I'm sorry'' when he sees my disappointed expression.

''Well, could it be by someone of your people?''

He shakes his head. ''Most of Tri Kru do not write those letters.''

''That means someone made it!!'' I almost scream, all but jumping, ''Don't you see? Someone escaped the Mountain Men! Bellamy- It had to be Bellamy, or Finn, or both of them, they- They were outside last, they knew the fires were coming, they- They had to have escaped even before the Mountain Men came-!''

''Calm down,'' he says, ''You'll hurt yourself.''

''I feel fine,'' I dismiss, reaching for my boots, ''I need to go.''

''You will get yourself killed,'' he says, the way he does through his teeth when I'm being stubborn - and I've been stubborn a lot in the course of the past days, ''That ship of yours is now a lair for outlaws. Every bit of scum of this Earth will come looking for something there.''

''I can protect myself,'' I reach for my jacket, still trying not to put too much pressure on my leg.

''With full strength and better weapons, maybe,'' he says, then pauses and turns back toward the pantry, looking for something, ''It's not ready yet, since you weren't supposed to leave so soon but-''

''What are you talking about?'' I ask, but he's already looking for something in what seems like a big wooden chest.

''It could use more work, but it's better than that insult to archery of yours,'' he says, pulling out a brand new bow.

''Oh, my God,'' I stare, stunned, ''I'd complain about that insult but, now I can't.''

He smiles, handing it to me. ''I re-filled your quiver too.''

''You already saved my life,'' I say, ''Why are you helping me so much?''

''Saving your life would have been a waste of my time if I were to send you out to die now,'' he says, ''May it serve you well.''

I take the bow. It's far better than that mess Monty and I tried to make decent. The difference in knowledge is obvious - Rand's discerning eye and expertise picked out the finest branch with the most elegant recurve, and I can only assume the string is rawhide, off some animal. It's strong yet fine to the touch, almost sharp. He even embellished the ends of it with simple ornamental criss-cross lines. I am speechless as my fingers feel up every inch of it.

''I don't know how to thank you.''

''Thank me by coming back with me here to stay the night,'' he says, ''You can't be caught out there alone in the dark, not yet anyway. Besides, you have shelter here. No one's found this place yet.''

''And you?''

''I told you I'm heading east once you've healed,'' he says, adding a small smile, ''You'd poison yourself without me.''

''I'm not that ignorant,'' I argue, almost rolling my eyes, ''I've learned which vials to stay away from.''

''I don't trust you,'' he gives a hint of a smirk, ''Your body is still vulnerable to disease, even a cold could crush you. I don't want you reaching for deathbell juice by yourself.''

''Fine, I get it, Rand,'' I try not to laugh, ''Just so you know, I'm excellent at recognizing plants. Juices, not so much.''

''Gear up,'' he says, ''We need to leave as soon as possible if we want to be back by nightfall.''

''We?''

''Three legs are better than one.''

*

My leg has pretty much healed - I only feel a small sensation shooting up my leg as I step on my right foot, but it isn't exactly pain. Just a feeling, a sort of aftermath. To let me know my muscle is still healing, but wouldn't take much longer to be brand new. Sometimes, if I step in an odd way, I'd feel pain, but on level ground, I have no problems. I could even run. Though I hope nothing will make me, before the day is through.

Rand has found some darker clothes for me, something to make me look like more of a Grounder than a Sky person, which is a good call, with the way things are. It's as though there's a bounty on our damn heads - everyone is eager to kill us. A Sky person is the worst thing to be. I make a few braids in my hair too, more out of the fact that it's dirty as hell than the fact that it's common Grounder fashion. It helps keep my hair back and stay back, and it makes me feel cleaner. Thinking about showers back on the Ark makes me want to cry.

Going back to the Drop-Ship is... crushing. This place has been our home, and now it's a cemetery. The place where Miller and I sat near a fire is a pile of ashes, our outpost black with char. There are bones - a pile of burnt bones - right where Bellamy kissed me first. I could vomit - not at the sight, but the sickness of it all. The ground where I had slept is covered with corpses.

The Drop-Ship is empty, whatever could be scavenged out of it - was. I find blood, but it isn't much, and it could be anyone's. Probably Raven's, I realize, and the sudden thought of her sends a chill to my bones. She was already in bad shape, shot by Murphy; how could she have made it in all the mess that ensued?

Rand must have sensed how upset I am by coming back here. ''I told you you would find nothing here,'' he says.

''And I told you I had to come nonetheless.''

He shows me the writing he found, but the rains have washed out all of it. All I can see is a couple of letters and a number that means nothing to me. Someone left a message here for whoever survived, probably directions to some place, but it's useless. I can't discern it. I want to cry out of desperation. Someone of my people is alive and out there, and I have no idea who, or where they are. I have nothing to go on either.

''Whoever wrote that is one of my people,'' I say, ''And they're out there. I need to find them.''

''Can you recognize-?''

''No. And what little I can see, it-,'' I sigh, ''It's not Bellamy's handwriting.''

Not that I've seen his writing too many times, but whoever this is writes their letters very italicized. That much is obvious.

''You've mentioned him more than anyone,'' Rand notes, ''You care about him.''

''I'm in love with him,'' I admit, surprising myself, my chest aching. I've never said it out loud, not to myself, not to Bellamy. And I had no reason to share that. Rand doesn't say anything to it, however.

''We're losing light. Come on.''

*

I don't sleep too well that night. I can't seem to find a way to stop all these awful scenarios from playing out in my mind. I know what I have to do though. I have to search for that someone who's made it, no matter what. I need to find whoever it is that wasn't taken by the Mountain Men. Whoever it is that left that message.

Picking up a trail is next to impossible, so I have to start somewhere else. Where would I go first if I was the only one left and stuck out there in the open?

Ark remains. 

Whatever's left of the Ark is scattered, and finding bits and pieces and crash sites wouldn't be too hard, though it would be a longer mission - I'd surely have to cover a lot of ground. It would take me days, but I'm determined. The crash sites surely hold supplies, much needed supplies for someone stranded out in the open. That's what I would have done, smart or stupid.

And I have to start somewhere.

*

It's a day long hike to the first crash site we've found, and it's only because Rand had already stumbled upon it and knew where to go. Night has fallen by the time we reach it, and there wouldn't have been much to see even in daylight - the Ark station had landed down a cliffside and nothing survived the explosion. Even if there are any useful supplies, there's no coming down to get them. 

That's defeating. I make it obvious when I kick a tree trunk and almost break a toe in my anger and desperation. I want to scream, to cry out. 

''I will make a fire,'' Rand only says, giving me a moment of privacy.

But even alone, I can't cry anymore.

The other crash site takes even longer to reach. It's two days travel, completely on the other side. It isn't in much better shape. The explosion actually seems to have been even bigger here. I can't recognize which station this is, but the blackened crater it's made is huge. If anyone's survived that, they're long gone somewhere else.

''You don't have to keep accompanying me,'' I tell Rand again, as we look upon the depressing sight, ''You have helped me plenty, and I feel fine now. This isn't your journey to take.''

''It should not be yours either,'' he says.

I turn sharp, almost angry. ''They're my people,'' I say, wanting to cry again, but unable to form anything akin to tears.

''And they're gone,'' he says, ''Can't you see? There is nothing for you here.''

''And what else can I do?!''

''You can come with me. Go east. The clan there will take us in.''

''Rand-''

''You cannot survive alone.''


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasha realizes she's not who she used to be.

''I am not alone, Rand. I can't be.''

''That someone could be dead by now as well,'' he says, completely reasonably, ''You're chasing a wild goose.''

We're on our way to the next crash site we've located. It's another day long hike to it, but I'm not feeling tiredness. It's probably too much for my leg so suddenly too, but I don't care. I feel like I'm losing time already, so I press on.

''I should have left some kind of message where I've already been,'' I grumble, frustrated with myself, ''Might be we're crossing paths by a hair.''

''The ruin itself is a loud enough message.''

I'd told Rand that I couldn't go with him as long as I know there's someone else out there, as long as I know that it's possible that Bellamy is alive and well. I told him to go without me and go at once, but he said he wished to see this through with me. For the most part, I'm glad he's decided to stay a little while longer - I am learning so much useful stuff by his side, from language to combat tips. If he's right - and I am sure he is - I'll need both skills out here, especially without my people.

''Your people must be very important to you,'' he says as we walk on.

''I don't have anything else.''

''You have your life,'' he still argues.

That conversation is abruptly interrupted by the sound of someone talking. My heart jumps with joy until I realize it's Trigedasleng, then it falls right back down into my heels. Someone's made a camp nearby, probably a hunting party. A part of me tells me to stay away, the other part considers asking them about Sky People. I could easily pass as a Grounder as long as I let Rand speak, and we could just be a couple of mercenaries on a hunt for Sky-folks. It could work.

I suggest as much, but Rand blocks me with an arm as I make to walk toward the sound. ''Careful,'' he says, ''Could be outlaws. Bandits.''

The fact that I only hardly considered that somewhere in the back of my mind speaks volumes of just how much I'm not yet ready for survival out here. 

Rand decides to go in on his own while I stay back hidden. He said this was my test of how much I've learned. ''Stealth is your greatest friend when you're on your own,'' he's told me about a million times over the course of days. I don't know how good of an idea it is, but I obey and stay back, deciding to keep an eye on him and stand ready to jump in if anything goes wrong. I'm not a warrior, but I'll be damned if I leave him on his own after everything he's done for me.

I understand only bits and pieces of what they're saying, but I don't need to understand all of the language to know the attitudes of the three men we've found are something very akin to hostile. You can see it in their body language, the way they eye Rand up and down. One wrong move or one wrong thing to say, and every instinct tells me these men would turn on him instantly. That sort of nervousness has me even more ready to jump in - I am on high alert.

But the exchange seems to go on a bit longer without anything going wrong yet. I realize I'm sweating, and I can only assume it's not exactly because of the layers of my clothes or the fact that it's exceptionally warm this late in the year.

They seem to be answering some of his questions now, but I still have an arrow notched to my bow, and it's a good call too. The moment the exchange is done, the moment they think Rand is going to turn his back on them, they make to attack. They don't yet, but I beat them to it - my arrow flies and gets stuck somewhere between the assailant's ribs. Then all hell breaks loose.

It's over very quickly, but at the same time it feels like forever. I finish off the already wounded man with another arrow while Rand deals with the two others. It doesn't take me long to realize he isn't dealing with them very well. He's surely the superior warrior, but with two relentless attackers he can only do so much. And I can't shoot in all that mess, fearing I'll hit Rand instead.

So instead of skulking in the bushes like a coward and risking Rand dying and then the two of them coming after me, I jump right in. I use the moment of confusion and surprise well when I pull the machete off of the fallen man's back, and the moment one of the two outlaws is upon me, Rand seems to have managed to subdue the other one. I can't look exactly, with my own hands full.

Fear mixes with determination, and fear prevails even though I try to push it down. I'm not stupid - this man is a warrior, and someone who's probably been in countless fights far worse than this. I'm not even close. It's one thing sitting perched up on a tree and shooting arrows, and quite another staring the enemy right in the face, and fighting him hand to hand. This man is so much bigger than me, he wouldn't even need skill to win over me, just a couple of forceful enough slams.

All I can do is evade. He swings, I jump aside. He lunges, I turn. I lunge at him only once, and he elbows me in the back of my head so hard he could have cut me down too if I hadn't moved away quickly despite the moment of pain and disorientation.

I manage to keep up and keep alive long enough for Rand to come in and help. Once he's done with his assailant, he's knocked mine on the head with a rock large enough to put a man to sleep for a week. 

It's pure instinct, I'm not really thinking when I make to cut the man on the ground, tip of my machete right on his neck. It's probably the adrenaline, the haste of it all - I don't quite seem to realize that the fight is over. Breathing fast, heart racing - I want to kill the man. And I would have, hadn't Rand stopped me, his hand on my arm.

''It's over,'' he says, but I can hardly move, my machete still close to the man's throat, still staring him down, half-expecting him to wake, half- _wanting_ him to wake up and just give me a reason. 

This has to be what people mean when they say one ''sees red''. My blood is boiling. I hate this man, whose name I don't even know. The irrational hatred doesn't seem at all irrational in the moment. One move and he'd be dead. And a part of me really _wants_ him to make that move.

''Natasha,'' Rand calls, bringing me slowly back to reality, ''It's over. Let's go.''

''They could track us down, follow us,'' I insist, not moving my arm from the potentially fatal position yet.

''They won't,'' he says, voice level, calm, as though afraid to set me off and push me back over the brink, ''We killed one. This - this would be unnecessary.''

I stare at the unconscious man, then glance at the other sprawled three feet away. They're out cold, but breathing both. I glance at the third one, lying in a small pool of blood. Suddenly, it hits me.

''We didn't kill him. I did.''

''You did what you thought you had to do. You don't have to do _this_.''

I want to cry - I really feel like crying - still almost physically unable to move my arm and move the machete away from the man's throat. 

''He moved toward you,'' I start explaining myself - trying to justify it to myself more than anyone, I know - ''They were bandits, they were ready to kill for your pack, I saw him move, he would have killed you, Rand, I saw him, I- I saw-''

''Hey. Hey,'' he calls again, this time turning my face with his hand so I look at him, ''I believe you. You did what you thought you had to do. Now let's go.''

The machete falls out of my hand and clatters next to me feet, as though it's fallen out of someone else's, hardly any control of it. I feel almost dizzy, light-headed as though I've been holding a breath for an hour and I've just now inhaled again, blood rushing through my skull, heart bursting with tears I want to but can't cry, everything that's ever been wrong looming above my head. Rand must think I'll crumble when he hugs me, physically if not emotionally. And I think I would have, if he hadn't hugged me - right on my knees.

''First kills are never easy,'' he says, almost hums it, as though to calm me. I feel weak as I hug him, leaning on him more than anything.

''That wasn't my first kill,'' I say.

''No, but that was different. There is a certain distance in battles of war.''

''What am I becoming,'' I ask, but not Rand, not even myself - maybe God, though I'm not sure I still believe in God. It's a breath, a prayer, a cry in fear of my own self. I am so afraid, so awfully afraid. I really can't recognize myself anymore - the person I used to be and learned to love is nowhere to be found in this body we share. I want to cry for the loss, but I can't still; I want to run but know I can't run away from my own damn self. I wanted to kill that man. _Wanted_ to. I hated him so much in that moment, and that hatred was _real_. Real, and raw, and furious. And I wanted to cut his throat. Even though he didn't kill Drew or wounded Miller or tortured Murphy and turned him into a monster. Even though he didn't shoot a poisoned arrow into my leg. Even though he didn't rip away Finn and Bellamy from me. Even though he didn't take Monty, or speared Jasper. Hell, maybe they didn't even want to harm Rand and I'd fired without thinking straight - but I wanted _him_ to pay.

''Pick it up, let's go.''

''I can't,'' I say, my hands feeling so dirty - so so dirty I want to rub them clean until they bleed. I look at the machete, the same machete I couldn't let go of just a few minutes ago, and the same machete I can't bring myself to pick up just now.

''You have to,'' Rand says, ''This road you've taken, you've taken it because you had to, not because you wanted to. And you have to see it through.''

''I can't.''

''Our warriors start training as children, that is our way. You have started just now. What you feel is _normal_ ,'' he says, ''But you know you will have to kill to survive.''

''I don't want to.''

''It doesn't matter.''

And it doesn't matter. Kill or be killed. The remorse and guilt and disgust I feel will be gone with time, and the next time it's kill or be killed, I won't even think twice. I won't even hesitate. I know that. It doesn't matter what I want, or that I want it all to stop. It doesn't matter at all. I can either be prey, or not allow it. It's beyond me, out of my control - this world wants to kill me whether I want to kill back or not.

I pick up the machete.

I walk over and tale the sheath off the man's back as well, so that I'll be able to carry the machete. I check to see if I can salvage the arrows I killed him with. Only one is still usable. I take it out of the man's neck, ignoring the new small gush of blood as I carefully pull it out, clean it, and put it back in the quiver. I take some of the meat they roasted on the fire, leaving some for when they wake up. Our meat snacks on two small wooden canes, we go on.

*

We don't make it to the next crash site on planned time. The exhaustion has caught up with us, and we decide to leave the other half of the hike for the morning. We set up camp and decide to get up at first light.

Back against a tree, knees drawn up, I play with my own fingers and fingernails and stare at the flames of our campfire. We don't want to risk anything big, but the warmth is comforting. Watching the flames lick and dance is hypnotizing, almost calming. After the days I've had, I need this emptiness of mind. 

''What happens if you find him? If it's him,'' Rand asks, meaning Bellamy.

'' _When_ I find him,'' I correct, ''Or them. Finn and Bellamy were together last I saw them. They could have both run away together.''

''Say they did. Then what? You break into the mountain, the three of you?''

''Well, for one, I hug the life out of them. Then we think about the mountain.''

He doesn't say anything to that.

''You know,'' he starts after a while, ''Today has made you stronger.'' 

''Today has made me less human,'' I retort - still a bit angry, though hardly at Rand - eyes still trained on the flames.

''There aren't many things as human as eagerness to survive. The anger and hatred for the enemy,'' he says, ''Ugly, sure. But very human.''

''I am not a Grounder,'' I shake my head.

''You're on the ground.''

That sparks up a few thoughts. Are we becoming Grounders? Most of us have killed. Some of us have tortured. All of us have fought. All of us now obey the laws of the ground. What really makes us so different from the Grounders at this point? Hell, I even look like one now. I am learning to speak and fight like one. I have to, if I want to be back to my people. I have to.

''You want the first watch, or should I?''


	29. Chapter 29

The more time passes and the more ground we cover, the more the reality of there being no signs of my people starts to sink in. The very real possibility that I am the only one left starts to gnaw at me, because that's not a possibility I considered or want to consider. That just isn't an option. But if I don't catch a lead soon, I'll have to think it an option.

Rand is a friend now, someone who's helped me beyond repaying. It wouldn't have surprised me that much if hadn't all but abandoned the idea of there being that many good people who'd help without getting something in return. Those kinds of people are scarce, and the idea of me being blessed with stumbling upon them is simply wild.

But I have been blessed enough to stumble upon such people, that's the truth of it. Otherwise, I would have died. I would have never survived without the delinquents - without Bellamy and Clarke and Raven and everyone else. I would have died without Finn and Lincoln. I would have died without Rand.

But I don't want to go east with Rand, as much of a friend that he is. I don't want to start a life there, learn the ways of the Grounders, live as they do. Too much has changed already - _I_ have changed too much already. If I lose this one last thread that ties me to who I once was and where I came from, I'll be lost myself.

Maybe, if I found Bellamy, we could go together. Maybe we'd even cross paths with Lincoln and Octavia. That would be different. That would be a bit better. But I don't think I'd ever be able to find peace knowing I'd done nothing to try and help my friends when they needed it.

Mount fucking Weather. I turn to it, gave it a good long look, as though I could just topple it down if I stare with enough fury. 

''You're getting distracted, the mountain won't open itself to you if you stare hard enough,'' Rand says good-naturedly, ''Mela op. Loka au. _(Head up. Eyes open.)_ ''

''Nou get yu daun, Rand. Ain loka otaim au. _(Don't worry, Rand. My eyes are always open.)_ ''

''Look at you,'' he smiles wide, ''An actual sentence, and completely correct no less.''

''Well, since I'm stuck listening to you ramble all the time,'' I tease.

''What is that?''

I turn to where Rand was looking, a frown creasing his face - it's in the opposite direction of Mount Weather. 

A breath catches in my throat.

''Oh, my God.''

It looks like a balloon, hovering in place up in the sky. It hovers over where we've roughly estimated a crash site should be, but we had left that one for last, since it's the furthest from where we are.

I feel I could cry tears of joy.

''My people,'' I breathe, it barely sounds like I have a voice, ''Rand, my people.''

''You were right.''

And then the beacon of saving grace just bursts and falls back somewhere onto the ground. I gasp, taken aback a bit. But it doesn't matter. It doesn't have to mean anything. I just have to get there as soon as possible.

As soon as possible would mean at least two days of hiking at a steady pace with barely any rest or sleep. I could do it. I just hope whoever is there would still be there by the time I arrive.

''I have to hurry,'' I urge.

''Be careful,'' Rand says, and that's when I realize this is goodbye.

I turn to face him. He stands there with a kind smile on his face, genuine good wishes reflecting in his eyes. A friend. An unlikely friend, with a tattoo on his face and braids in his long dirty blonde hair and beard.

''You can come with me. My people will take you in, after everything you did for me-''

''No, Natasha,'' he says, ''You may be on the path of becoming a warrior, but you're still very naive-''

''My people aren't trusting at first, but you'd be among friends-''

''Exiled or not, we are enemies. Your people know that as I do,'' he argues, ''And exiled or not, I would never betray my own. Coming to your camp would mean my death, if not by your people than by mine. The moment I stepped out of your territory I would be a dead man.''

It makes sense, but I don't want it to make sense. Whoever put up that beacon would surely be smart enough to realize we could use a Grounder to find out whatever we can if nothing else. But it makes sense, damn it; it would be treason and his life forfeit. After everything he's done for me, I would rather die myself than put him in that kind of danger.

So I hug him with all my might. It has him taken aback a bit, the suddenness of it, until his arms wrap around my waist in a squeeze too.

''Ste yuj. Yu gonplei nou ste odon kom nau. _(Be strong. Your fight is not over yet.)_ ''

''Thank you for everything, friend,'' I say, ''I will never forget it.''

''You take care now, Natasha kom Skai kru.''

''You too,'' I say, pulling back, sensing tears forming in the corners of my eyes, ''Best of luck. Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim. _(May we meet again.)_ ''

He grins at the use of my Trigedasleng, before he says: ''May we meet again.''

*

I walk all day, and I sacrifice the night of sleep too, though it's much more difficult to navigate the woods in the dark. Without the beacon, at night I have to keep my direction navigating according to the stars, and I can only hope I'm not on the wrong path after all and despite it. I rest a couple of hours only to be up at dawn again, trying to keep my eyes on the prize.

But it's not that simple. After a while there's no way of being sure if I'm walking toward where the beacon had hovered. The less distance between us, the more specific the location. Too many times I have to really stop and think - turning back a few times, considering everything, finding higher ground to stand and size up the territory. That, too, takes me more time than I thought it would. Days are growing shorter, and the sun goes down sooner than I really realize. 

The day is uneventful though. The good news is that nothing has tried to kill me except a snake I managed to evade, but the bad news is that I am starving on top of being tired, sparing no time to hunt, having snacked my supplies away. All I could find was a handful of berries. I don't really care. I'll eat once I'm there.

And at night, the stars again. 

*

In the morning, I know there's progress. 

I've kept on in the same direction as I'd intended, and by noon, when the sun is at its highest, I am in a forest very similar to the one that surrounded our Drop-Ship. It's denser though, and more diverse; but as I walk through - machete in hand, staying sharp for any animals that could harm me - I hear people before I can see them. 

I run, as fast as I can.

The forest becomes less dense, then the tall trees become shorter growth, and by the time I've reached the end of it, I think I have to have gone crazy.

In the clearing up ahead of me lies the Ark.

I stand there, dumbly, stupefied, and stare with my mouth half open. _The Ark._ Or most of it anyway, kissing the ground. A camp is built around it, walls and gates too. And the people - God, so many people - they are bustling about, hard at whatever work they are doing. So many survivors. I've forgotten to breathe. So many survivors.

I make one step ahead before a bullet flies right past my foot.

''Stay right there!!!''

I do, not exactly out of fear as much as it's out of confusion. I've completely forgotten about the fact that I look like a Grounder; I don't realize it at all. So when a group of Guards approaches me with their rifles trained at me, shouting orders, telling me to drop my weapons, I obey. I obey because I'll eat a bullet before I can explain myself.

The machete falls to the ground - one of them takes it immediately - and two men restrain me the moment the weapon hits the dirt, both arms behind my back. That's when I decide it's the smartest to start explaining.

''You don't understand, I'm from the Ark-''

But they don't listen at all, so when they roughly all but drag me back to camp, I decide it's best not to even bother until I'm there. 

The woman that leads the party is Sgt. Byrne; I know her. She was one of the Chief Guards back on the Ark. Apparently, she's survived and kept the position on the damn ground too. The others' faces I've probably seen before too, but I don't know them. 

Once the gate has closed behind us, people start running up to take a look at the prize automatically. They're crowding around like I'm a freshly hunted down boar they're particularly excited about. Some of them give me dirty looks, thinking I'm a Grounder; I may have even heard a few comments buzzing through. But surprisingly, no one outwardly _does_ anything. It's as though the order enforced by the Guard back on the Ark has transferred down to the ground as well.

''You don't understand-,'' I start again. I am roughed up instead of a reply.

''Place her in custody,'' Byrne orders. The two men drag me onward, into the Ark, through the familiar halls. I almost don't care they're dragging me on tied up like a criminal once I see the inside of the Ark, the walls and the lights and my feet on familiar metal. I never thought the inside of the Ark would be a sight to love, but boy, do times change. I could kiss the damn floor.

''Tasha?!''

''Raven?''

She can't be real, and yet she stands there, at the entrance of a room to my right. 

It's so good to see her I've almost lost my voice. The fact that she's alive and well has hit me like lightning, which is why it takes me a moment too long to realize she's limping her way over to me, a brace on her leg.

They try to keep her away when she makes to hug me, still restrained, but this is Raven, and no one fucks with Raven Reyes. She's used several synonyms of the word ''morons'' by the time she's through, but the poor men are still simply under orders and it's not their fault, so Raven goes on and drags Dr. Abby. 

Abigail Griffin, whom I've also believed to be dead.

''Free her immediately,'' Dr. Abby growls, before she throws her arms around me in a hug the moment they obey, ''Let's get you to medical.''

''We saw your ship crash,'' I say.

''I wasn't on it,'' Abby smiles.

''Finn and Bellamy-''

''They're fine, they're out of camp now,'' Raven smiles, ''We thought _you_ were dead. I'm glad you're not.''

''Six of you had made it back here,'' Abby says, as she leads me to medical, ''Then Clarke was the seventh, you're the eighth.''

''We lost Sterling in the meantime though,'' Raven explains.

''Seven,'' I breathe. Only seven. Everyone else is either dead or stuck in that mountain. But I am so relieved Bellamy and Finn are fine that I can't even fully grasp the fact.

''We have to help them,'' I say, shaking my head, ''The Mountain Men-''

''How do you know?'' Abby stops and turns on me, eyes wide.

''It's a long story, I escaped them by a hair, but Rand told me-''

''That Grounder,'' Raven notes.

''He saved my life,'' I nod, ''He told me everything he knew about the Mountain Men, which wasn't much, but it's not good and we have to get them out of th-''

''We will,'' Abby assures me, as we're about to enter the room, ''For now you need proper medical care and rest. We'll talk Mount Weather later.''

''Also, there's someone here waiting to see you,'' Raven grins from ear to ear.

I step into the room, and immediately think I'll crumble.

''Dad?''


	30. Chapter 30

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=4g6mit)

''Dad!''

The way I look must have him taken aback a bit, but if it does - he doesn't show it. I literally run and slam into a hug, cling onto him as though for dear life, afraid I'm dreaming, afraid I'm lying somewhere in a ditch with a head injury and this is all another hallucination. He feels real though; the way one of his hands has me wrapped tight while the other holds the back of my head like I'm still a baby. The closeness and smell of him and the way he kisses my forehead like he always did - though this time with so much more force as though he's afraid I'll disappear in his arms - it's all too familiar. This is real. This has to be real.

When he tears up, I know it is.

Rick Parish hates crying, and he hates the mere possibility of me seeing him cry even more. Very few things could make him tear up like this. I can't see it though, holding him tight, but I can hear it slightly. I can feel when his shoulders suddenly start shaking gently. I hold him tighter, afraid to let go, the back of his shirt crumpled in my fists.

After a while, I reluctantly loosen my grip on him and take a small part of a step back. His composure is back intact, like nothing has happened.

''Look at you,'' he says, caressing my cheek, giving me a small smile, but traces of tears still cling in the corners of his eyes.

''Where's mom?''

He only looks at me then, and on some level I've known already, but I don't want to believe it yet.

''Dad?'' I insist, as though I need to hear it.

He opens his mouth, but no words come for another eternity long moment, until he finally speaks.

''Sweetie, she, uh- She didn't make it.''

He has to expect some reaction from me, something other than me just staring at him dumbly. But in all honesty, even if I wasn't in shock and experiencing the aftermath of several traumatic events, I still wouldn't be able to give him too much. I'd already believed mom was dead. Now she just... she just stays dead. 

On the other hand, I'm just happy and grateful to at least have _him_ back. And once all of this is over, if it's ever going to be over, I am sure I'll finally feel the loss and mourn properly. But not now. Now I can't. I can't make myself.

''How did it happen?''

''Her station exploded,'' he says, his voice threatening to give in, ''It was her idea, she, uh- She thought the chances of at least one of us getting to the ground were bigger if- if we traveled separately.''

''She was right,'' I say.

''Your mother always is,'' he chuckles, then gets serious again, '' _Was_. I, uh- I wouldn't be here if she hadn't, heh, pretty much chased me away,'' he smiled sadly, ''I could never say 'no' to her. I just wish I could have-''

''You couldn't have known,'' I stop him before he goes anywhere he isn't supposed to go, ''Neither of you could have known. This was pure chance. Dad!''

I grab his arms, make him look up from the ground. He looks me in the eyes then, the eyes of someone new, not the girl that left him on the Ark, but eyes that have seen too much and fought too many tears to be able to weep now. I hope he doesn't notice, but that's surely impossible. I hope he can't see how changed I am, how hardened I am. I hope he can still see his little girl. I hope against hope.

''My mom sacrificed herself so one of you could come to me,'' I say, calmly, voice level, eyes boring into his, ''And I am grateful for that.''

Maybe I imagine it; maybe I am seeing things because I am so afraid. But there could have been something in his eyes for one fleeting moment. Like he didn't quite expect that from me. Like I wasn't supposed to say what I've said.

''Well, I'm sorry to interrupt but she needs to get a full check,'' Abby walks in with a kind smile after our moment of privacy was done, ''You will have plenty of time to catch up after we make sure she's perfectly healthy.''

''Of course. Thank you, Abby,'' dad nods with a polite smile, reluctantly lets me go, kisses my cheek, and leaves the room.

''Come, sit here,'' Abby becks, and I obey, seating myself on the bed. I am still a bit stunned from everything that has happened.

''You look like a Grounder,'' she notes as she makes to pick up her small lamp light, probably to check my eyes and ears and whatnot, ''A very confused Grounder.''

''A lot has happened,'' I explain.

''Sure has.''

''The Mountain Men took everyone that came out of that Drop-Ship,'' I shake my head, realizing, ''How did Clarke get away?''

''She didn't. They took her too,'' Abby explains, now checking my throat, ''She escaped.''

''Wha-?!''

''Open up,'' she orders as I almost bite her hand.

''Sowwie.''

''She escaped,'' she repeats, putting back her tools, ''With the help of a Grounder, Anya-''

''Anya?!''

''She didn't make it. Have you had any falls or cuts that still cause pain-?''

''No, I feel fine. Rand cured me from the poisoned arrow.''

''I see. Lie down.''

''Where are they?'' I ask, lying down, ''Clarke and Bellamy and the rest.''

''After Finn Collins and John Murphy,'' she explains as she moves the outer layers of my clothes out of her way, sounding like she doesn't like that fact one bit, ''I want you to tell me if anything hurts.''

''Murphy?!''

''I understand he's not a favorite among the kids but he's been pardoned,'' she says as she presses my belly in several places, ''So unless you want to end up imprisoned like Bellamy did I suggest you try not to punch the boy.''

''Abby, what's he doing with Finn?!''

''They went looking for you. All of you. We believed the Grounders took you until Clarke came back.''

''God,'' I sigh, ''I hope they get them back before they do anything stupid and make things worse with the Grounders.''

''Marcus is negotiating peace as we speak so,'' she takes a breath - the woman is beyond stressed, ''Yeah. Let's hope.''

*

Washing up has to make the list of things that make me happiest right now, somewhere right up there with seeing dad. Actual soap, shampoo and razors - I could weep tears of joy. Untangling my hair and making myself presentable again makes me feel like - for a moment - everything is back to perfectly normal.

Then I look down - take a really good look at myself for the first time in ages. The amount of bruises and scratches is bigger than I thought. For most of them, I have no idea how I even earned them. My tolerance for pain has always been a bit freaky, even back on the Ark, but now I seem to be all but deadened to it. The wound on my calf is surprisingly well stitched and it's healed, leaving a pink scar as a souvenir. _Thank you, Rand,_ I think with a smile. I hope he's okay and on his way to a new, good life he deserves.

Battle scars. All that time being a history geek and reading about shield-maidens, I never in my wildest dreams thought I'd ever be able to take up bow and sword. How the hell did I get here? What kind of alternate universe have we all entered? Facing the threat of Grounders for so long has normalized it all to us. We've all forgotten that there was a time when we believed there isn't a living soul down on Earth. Now _this_ \- this is normal.

My face doesn't look too bad once I've washed it, thank goodness. There are red scratches on my forehead and right cheekbone and left cheek and upper lip. The last yellow-ish remnants of the bruise on my right cheek seems to be about to disappear. My face looks more gaunt than I remember though; I must have lost some weight. It isn't too bad. I almost like it all a bit. It kind of makes me feel tougher, and I appreciate anything that can make me feel tougher. I need it. Which is why I braid up a couple of braids at the sides of my head again. Clean, blonde hair falls back, and it smells so good I can't stop shaking it a bit so I can catch the scent waft through the air. Thankful for the small piece of mirror, I decide to keep it.

I am back in clothes that look less Grounder and more Sky people, thank goodness for that too. It almost feels weird, being back in regular clothes. I appreciate the new pants with cargo pockets, and the new yellow-ish combat boots - mine have gotten pretty damaged over time. I've kept my Grounder clothes too though, washed them and left to dry next to dad's tent. I don't exactly have my own accommodation yet, but I figure I'll think about that once evening comes. I hope Bellamy will be back by then. The thought of seeing him again makes me so ridiculously nervous, it almost upsets my stomach.

Dad has gotten me a particularly versatile and bountiful meal waiting for me out front, and even though I doubt I can finish it, I end up devouring it all. We sit together at one of the tables, enjoy simply eating and talking, and avoid mentioning anything too hurtful.

''I can't imagine everything you've been through,'' dad says after a while, ''You're so-''

''Different?''

''Grown up.''

_Traumatized. Scarred. Hardened by battle. Baptized by death. Damaged by loss and matured by pain. But yeah, I guess you could say ''grown up''._

''I've seen John,'' he starts casually, and suddenly half my appetite is gone, ''He seemed to try and avoid me at all costs.''

''Ashamed to face you, if he has any decency left,'' I spit, taking another bite of the steak, ''Though I sincerely doubt it.''

''Yeah, I've heard stories,'' he says, ''Though I'm not sure which ones are true. He's been helpful around camp-''

''Don't trust it,'' I hiss before he can even finish the sentence.

''I don't care what happened as long as you're alright,'' he says, ''Are you?''

''Of course. It takes more than John Murphy.''

Pleasant, calm silence ensues for a short while. He doesn't press the issue any further.

''Hey, Raven!'' I call once I see her on the other side, scanning the place to find somewhere to sit. I wave her over, and she gives me a look with a ''You sure?''.

''Get over here, Raven,'' dad waves her over, giving me a small smile.

''You two know each other?''

''Know each other? She's been giving me hell for days,'' dad says, as she sits down next to me with a smile and a teasing frown at the same time, ''But she and Wick are the best engineer-mechanic team we've got, so I have to put up with it. I wouldn't get anything done around here without them.''

''Is that so?'' I grin.

Raven shrugs, ''Not everyone can handle the awesome.''

''Did you put up that beacon?''

''It was my _idea_ ,'' she says as she munches on the food, ''Damn Byrne shot it down immediately though.''

''You saved my life. Freakin' again.''

She stops to look at me with a frown that turns into a smile in an instant. ''Well, you're welcome.''

''Well. Now I _really_ have to put up with you, Reyes,'' dad grumbles teasingly, and we share a laugh.


	31. Chapter 31

Dad insisted I catch some sleep before anything else. ''The world can wait a bit to be saved,'' he said with a smile when he threw a blanket over me, the way he used to do. I think we both needed that - him maybe more so than me. He is the one new to the ground, the one less used to things not being normal. The way he gets to take care of me again in small ways may help him ease himself through that. So I let him, and take some comfort from that myself.

Even though I am too nervous to fall asleep easily, exhaustion finally beats me, and the hours of sleep I get prove not only refreshing, but a way to escape reality for just a short while. For the first time in a while it's good, sound sleep, and without any nightmares - maybe it's because I finally feel somewhat safe again here in Camp Jaha, among my people, in my dad's tent. Even so, my weapons lie right next to me. The Guard was 'kind' enough to give them back, since they dpn't exactly fall under the no guns for the kids policy they are struggling to enforce.

I told them to wake me up the moment Bellamy, Clarke and the rest returned, but it's Raven that comes running to my tent just a bit late, it seems.

''T! Get up, they're back!'' she flaps the tent open.

''What's wrong?'' I sit up, shaking myself awake immediately at the sound of her voice and the look on her face. She's beyond upset.

''I don't know,'' she shakes her head, unable to stand still, ''Clarke and Bellamy are talking to Abby, they've been in there a while. I think it's about Finn.''

''What, why? Where is Finn?!'' I ask, pulling a jacket on.

''In his tent. I tried talking to him, he doesn't look well. He barely said a word to me. Something's happened, T.''

''Calm down, Raven,'' I say, putting a reassuring hand on her arm, ''He's back and he's safe, that's what's important. Whatever it is that's going on, I'm sure we can handle it.''

She nods, appreciating the encouragement and comfort, though the look on her face makes me more nervous than anything. We go out, looking for answers. It's dark outside already, though I am sure it can't be that late. The night is moonless; it demands fires and torches all across the camp.

''Octavia!''

I don't expect to see her, sitting there on a log by herself and cleaning her sword. Last I saw her Lincoln was carrying her away in the middle of battle with an arrow in her leg. That seems ages ago now. She looks deep in thought and just about as worn out as me - if not worse - sporting similar braids in her hair. I don't need to ask to know she's been through a lot.

''Tasha!'' she grins, striding forward and throwing her arms around me, ''Glad you're okay.''

''You too. But what are you doing here? Where's Lincoln?''

Her smile disappears and I regret asking instantly. 

''He's gone.''

''God. I'm sorry, O,'' I say, heart aching for her. She's put her everything in Lincoln. It's not fair.

''Yeah,'' she nods, ''Me too.''

''You need to tell us what happened,'' Raven urges.

''I already told you, Raven. We could only make things worse by spreading this around before the council's informed-''

''Octavia,'' I insist, practically begging her with my eyes, ''It's us. Just us.''

Octavia looks at me with a frown, then at Raven. She takes a breath, shakes her head, sits back down. By the amount of time she's taking to just get it out, this can't be good. This can't be good at all. Suddenly, I get even more nervous.

''Things got out of control in that Grounder village.''

''How out of control?'' Raven asks.

''Eighteen dead.''

''What-?'' 

''By the time we arrived, it was- It was a slaughterhouse,'' Octavia shakes her head, clearly upset, heartbroken, shaken up.

''Finn did that?'' Raven asks in disbelief, sounding out of breath. That doesn't make any sense at all. How? Why?

''We're at war-,'' I start, unsure of what point I'm exactly trying to push.

''Eighteen innocent people, guys,'' Octavia explains further, ''Elders. Children. All unarmed.''

''Finn would never do that without a reason-''

''I don't know what kind of reason he thought he had,'' she bites back, then takes a breath, and takes on a calmer tone, ''And I'm sure he did what he thought he needed to do. We know Finn. But this - this was a massacre. No two ways about it.''

''I should go see him-''

''And what could you tell him?'' Octavia stops me, ''He didn't even say anything to Raven. Best we leave him alone tonight.''

''Alone? You think that's smart after what you've just told me? We haven't even heard his side of the story-''

''We have. Murphy was there.''

''Murphy!'' Raven and I pretty much shout at the same time.

''You believed _Murphy_?'' Raven asks.

''Not just Murphy,'' Octavia argues back, ''Nyko told me everything, he-''

''A Grounder?!'' Raven scowls, ''You trusted a Grounder to tell Finn's side of the story when-''

''He wouldn't lie, Raven!'' Octavia raises her voice, ''When he wept on his knees over the cold body of Artigas - the boy who saved _MY_ life from a Reaper - the last thing on his mind was lies and the war they have with us.''

Raven shuts up. I don't know what to say either. This is too much to process.

''He was just a boy,'' Octavia adds, almost whispering, before she walks away.

I look to Raven. The frown on her face is hardly a reflection of everything going on in her mind. She looks back.

''I know Finn,'' she only says.

''I know. So what do we do?''

''They're still in there talking,'' she says nervously.

''Probably considering the threat of retaliation, which isn't a long shot at all,'' I share my conclusion.

She pauses a second, considers, then says:

''You try talking to him.''

*

I don't think I'll get any more out of Finn than Raven has managed to, but I have to check on him. He can't be okay, but I need to see. I need to look and try to find Finn Collins, the peacemaker I left behind in the old camp. Because all of _this_ \- it doesn't sound like Finn Collins at all.

I find him in front of what I assume is his tent, sitting on the ground, arms around his knees. He looks deep in thought, a few lines creasing his forehead, eyes trained on one spot only, somewhere in the distance. He doesn't look okay.

''Hey there.''

He turns around, and once he realizes who he's looking at, his eyes go wider. He stands up.

''I thought you were-''

''Dead?'' I smile, take one step forward carefully, hands in my pockets, ''Nah, still kicking.''

His feet are planted on the ground. He looks distressed, as though the reality of everything is too much and isn't exactly sinking in. As though nothing makes sense to him anymore. I've never seen him like this. The Finn Collins who always smiled and believed in the common good of humanity, I can't find him in there. The Finn Collins who really believed we could have made it without war this time around, that we could do better - this isn't him. He looks beaten down, broken, lost, resigned, disappointed. Everything Finn Collins never was.

''They say the Mountain Men took everyone-''

''Not me.''

He nods once, then looks at the ground, frown back on his face, going lost again. He sits back on the dirt, knees drawn once more.

''Well, I'm sure you're ecstatic to see me below all that,'' I joke, sitting next to him, trying to keep this whole thing light. We watch the camp in silence for a while, before he speaks again.

''I thought the Grounders had you, I didn't- I didn't mean to. I was willing to do anything to get you back, but- I didn't mean to-''

''I know.''

''No, you don't. None of you do,'' he looks at me now, playing offense instead of defense, ''I lost it back there, and Clarke can't even look at me now! Bellamy's afraid of what I'm gonna do next. None of you understand.''

''Look, I don't know what happened there, but it doesn't sound like you. I know you, Finn.''

''Do you?! Because I don't know myself anymore.''

''I know you're the boy who always tried to stop every fight. I know you're the one who wanted peace in the first place and tried to stop the war altogether. The only one who actually did anything about it.''

He shakes his head, staring at the ground, not wanting to hear it.

''I know you're the boy who shared his food with me, helped me when I was injured. You were the first to try and cut Murphy down. The first to make peace with Lincoln after everything. After he'd almost killed you.''

I'm not sure if I'm making things worse, because he looks just about ready to break, but I feel like he needs to hear all of this nonetheless. He has to be reminded, before he's gone for good.

''You were the one to risk your own skin with the Reapers that night, for all of us. And my personal favorite - you were the one to leave the safety of the Drop-Ship just to help Bellamy, _knowing_ that there was a ring of fire coming,'' I say, remembering, ''Finn, this is all you. I don't know what happened out there and how exactly it went down but this? _This_ is who you are.''

He shakes his head gently, still looking at the ground, sniffling just once. Then he stands up.

''Not anymore,'' he says before he leaves.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasha and Bells are reunited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: smut ahead! So... yeah.

I would be lying if I said I'm not worried by Finn - about what he's done and what he's capable of doing. He would never harm _us_ , but he's already harmed himself so much, and potentially created just enough trouble to put us all in danger indirectly. He is a loose cannon right now, in worse shape than I've ever seen any one of us, except maybe Murphy.

 _Murphy_. I haven't crossed paths with him yet by some good fortune, and I pray to God I won't by the time the day is through. That would make me go ballistic, on top of everything. The last time we spoke, he was trying to kill Bellamy. I don't care if they've pardoned him - they could have put his ass on the Council as far as I'm concerned - I can't promise not at least throwing a really good punch at his face once I see him. So best he stays away.

But when the door of that Council room opens, I honestly feel I could cry tears of happiness, if I knew how.

''I take it no one's told you I'm back,'' I grin, standing just as frozen as Bellamy does, and Clarke beside him. They're not grinning back. By the look on his scarred face, I think Bellamy thinks I'm a ghost.

Then, when the long heartbreaking moment is done, he takes exactly three strides before he wraps his arms around me, and hugs me so tight and with so much force and emotion he literally lifts me off the floor.

''When Clarke told me you weren't with them I thought-,'' he nearly chokes up.

I can't even say anything; I can only laugh and try not to cry as he still sways with me, his face buried in my hair. He pulls back then - and I could swear his eyes are glassy - and he places his hands on my cheeks and kisses me with so much, my knees almost buckle.

''Well, there's a confirmation we all wanted,'' Clarke chuckles, and it's like for a moment we've almost forgotten she's even there. I kiss Bellamy one more time before pulling back, only to go and throw my arms around Clarke.

''Heard you were a total badass,'' I say into her hair before I pull back, ''Kicking Mount Weather's ass.''

''Yeah, well, now I have to figure out a way to do it again.''

''All in due time,'' Bellamy smiles, pulling me closer, ''Now we're having a drink. I feel like we all need it after today.''

*

''God,'' I make a face - to Bellamy's amusement - as I swallow the drink down, ''This moonshine's worse than Monty's.''

The chuckles die down when I mention Monty, once we realize where he is. I didn't mean to be a buzz-kill. But alas.

''We're gonna get them out,'' Bellamy tells Clarke once he sees her expression - he's probably told her that a million times since they've reunited. It's weighing Clarke down, it's obvious. Knowing her, she probably feels this is her responsibility entirely. The squeeze of Bellamy's hand on my knee tightens a bit. Apparently, he can't separate himself from me now that he knows I'm alive; and I - I can't wait for the first moment alone to get my hands on him.

''We've lost a lot of time,'' Clarke says, looking at her cup, ''And with what happened today... We need to act.''

''If you could get out, it's manageable, right?'' I ask.

''Right, but after the whole spectacle with Clarke,'' Bellamy says, ''I don't think anyone's gonna be slipping out any time soon.''

''You can bet security's doubled,'' she agrees, ''And forty-seven people can't exactly slip out, not the way me and Anya did.''

''There's no use doing this now, we're going around in circles,'' Bellamy shakes his head, then puts on a small smile as he turns to me, ''Now. Where the hell have _you_ been?''

''Me? Guess.''

''Not today, honey, spit it out,'' Clarke says.

''I crossed paths with Rand.''

''That Grounder?'' Bellamy frowns.

''Yeah. He saved my life. Again. I got lucky,'' I explain, ''I found him in Lincoln's cave, where I would have died if he hadn't been there to give me the antidote. Their arrows were poisoned.''

Bellamy frowns, then wraps an arm around me to pull me closer. ''I should thank him. But why'd he do that?''

''Why did Lincoln help Octavia?'' Clarke quips from across the table, then hurriedly corrects herself once she realizes what she's implied - much to my amusement; Clarke is feeling the effects of moonshine, apparently - ''I mean- I'm not saying he's in love with you or anything. Just saying they're not all bad. They can't be.''

''He better not be,'' Bellamy says, and Clarke and I can't help but laugh - in all of this mess, even the smallest chuckle is a comfort. Clarke gulps the last of her moonshine down, then makes a scowling face before putting the cup back down.

''Well,'' she stands up, ''This has been great, but I'm gonna try and catch some sleep before I decide to fling myself off a cliff.''

''You wouldn't do that to us,'' I tease with a smile. She smiles back with a nod, waves a bye, and walks away - more relaxed now, less tension in her body. It must be the moonshine indeed.

''Come on,'' Bellamy takes my hand, leading me away.

''Where we going?'' I ask, even though I already know.

*

The moment we're in his tent, his lips are on mine, his hands on my cheek and my neck and I get goosebumps all across - head to toe - from that only. Even his breathing and his closeness set every nerve underneath my skin on fire. The taste of him - the sourness of lingering moonshine making it all even more intoxicating. His soft, barely chapped lips, the feel of his tongue against mine - I am already in flames. Instinctively, my hands pull on his jacket. He shrugs it off before he makes for mine, and it all goes so fluidly, one move after the other, one article of clothing after the other, until we're nothing but skin on skin only - his as hot as mine. 

The weight of him on top of me, the warmth of his skin and his breaths and the wetness of his lips on my skin. His hands are everywhere; his lips trailing kisses down my neck, open and wet and causing my heart to accelerate. I moan pathetically; I am melting, putty in his hands. And whenever I do, he knows he's found the spot to focus on, and my breath would literally get caught in my throat, because this man has some power over me I've never experienced before.

Somehow we've switched places - he looks so beautiful below me, some of the tiny locks of his raven hair that I love so much sprawled on the makeshift pillow. I kiss his lips, his cheeks, his nose, his everything; I run my hand through his hair - I can't help it. When I kiss his lips again, it's slow, lingering, savoring every moment. 

He places his hands on my hips - the feel of his calloused skin setting me on some new type of metaphorical fire, adding more to the heat inside of me. I kiss him again, very gently, barely moving, before his lips move to my jaw and place a kiss there, then lower and lower down my neck again. I close my eyes involuntarily as he kisses me back up to my lips, this time kissing me deeply, nibbling, pulling my lips, licking at my tongue slowly. I almost shudder. I arch myself into him so instinctively - he has a spell on me. He replies by pulling me closer, with a moan of his own at the feel of me grinding on him.

His hands are now on my thighs, going up up up to rest on my butt and squeeze a bit. I am already all flushed, my cheeks burning, breathing irregular, in no control over myself as my forehead rests against his. He pecks my lips once more as his fingers wander in between my legs, but then I start leaving wet kisses down his neck, biting and sucking every now and then, and he can barely focus when I find his spot, and his hissing and squeezes on my butt as a reaction to what I'm doing just make me even hotter.

I whine his name in a breath when he kisses my lips again. ''Shhh,'' he murmurs against my lips before a really wet kiss on my mouth, ''I got you, babe.'' His fingers go back between my legs, eyes now locked on mine, and when his two digits probe through my folds and start rubbing, I all but lose it. I kiss him again, tongue playing with his, his breathing louder. When his fingers enter me, I release a louder, open-mouthed ''Ahh'' that could probably be heard outside. When his fingers clench and un-clench inside of me, sending pleasure waves through every nerve in my body, I can't help shamelessly moaning, so he kisses me to silence me, because my brain is clearly on standby and thinking about how loud I am is the last thing on my mind. 

My entire body is on fire, but it's not enough. I want him - entirely - and I whine his name against his lips again as it's pretty much all I can do.

''Okay, baby, okay,'' he pulls his fingers out of me in reply and somehow the loss of his fingers makes me feel - embarrassingly - even needier. When he positions himself below me, and when he says ''Come here'' - those two simple words have to be the sexiest I've ever heard in my life. Especially in that low, raspy voice of his. One of his hands finds my hip again. By this time, my mind is fuzzy. I can swear I feel dizzy and light-headed. I couldn't utter a word to him now even if I wanted to. 

He grunts very sexily as I lower myself on him, slowly, with his help, and the feeling of his thickness finally stretching me has me losing my damn mind. When I am finally seated, he tries to bring me even closer to him with an arm around my waist. My hands are on his chest, then on his face, my lips on his, hungry. He gives me just a while to adjust to his size, and uses the time to whisper against my lips everything I never believed I'd hear him say. _You're so beautiful. You feel so good, baby. So fucking beautiful._ I die a little every time. As though I'm not crazed enough, his whispers just cause another waterfall out of me. This is crazy, it's never been like this, never this good; I've never felt this way before - and I know, but I can't really think straight; I can't think about anything. 

He groans when I start moving, the sound of it twisting my insides. His hands on my hips but not urging me. We keep the pace slow enough at first, his groans sounding more like growls at times, and my moaning safely low enough. It's my moaning that seems to be turning him on even more - I can see it in his face now, and the way he tries to control himself not to just slam me down, burying his nails into the skin of my hips, and the way he's throbbing inside of me, just pulsating. 

He gives in and flips me over, picking up the pace, his lips everywhere - my jaw, my neck, my collarbones. I arch my back even more, and it feels even better, and the way his muscles flex and shine with sweat under what little light there is in the tent makes it all even more erotic.

One of his hands reaches back down to get me off, and once he whimpers into my lips when I kiss him and his movement becomes more erratic, I know he's close too. My body is soon sent into a frenzy - the sweet, sweet pleasure flooding over me entire, rushing over me. He moves still, prolonging this high I'm on, and I can't help but cling onto him, my nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. He finishes soon after, spilling his warmth over my hips, dripping down my thighs. I love the feeling of it, and the way his sweaty body collapses on top of mine and I can smell every little thing about him - his scent and the smell of sex and sweat and the earthy smell that's always about him and even a bit of moonshine lingering still. 

We lie like that for a while until we catch our breaths, his face buried in the crook of my neck and his lips placing soft kisses lazily. I gently run my fingers through some of his locks, wet now with sweat dripping down his neck. He moves back to kiss me on the lips again.

''After this,'' he says breathily against my lips, ''The world could end tomorrow for all I care.''

I laugh at that and his silly smile. ''I've missed you,'' I admit, ''I was scared, but... I knew you'd made it.''

''How?''

''I don't know. I guess I had to believe. For my sanity,'' I chuckle.

''We thought the Grounders had you until Clarke came along. Then, when she told me you were not with them in the Mountain, I... I refused to believe, but days passed and you didn't come back and every day I-''

I kiss him just to stop him from going somewhere depressing, ''I'm here now. We're all gonna be okay.''


	33. Chapter 33

Bellamy awakes very early in the morning, and though he tries to make his exit as stealthily as a shadow, my eyes flutter open at the loss of his warmth.

''Where do you think you're going?'' I mumble sleepily, barely able to keep my eyes open as he's already getting dressed. He freezes and tenses at the sound of my voice with a _''damn''_ under his breath.

''A lot to be done,'' he says, approaching to place a kiss on my lips, his hands still zipping his pants up. ''Not for you, though. You should rest more,'' he adds, stopping me with an arm as I make to sit up.

''Screw that. I can't fall asleep again anyway.''

''Lie around in bed then,'' he smirks, pulling on a shirt, ''Get your energy back.''

''You had no problems exhausting me last night,'' I try to fight off my dumb grin. He chuckles.

''Guilty as charged,'' he pulls on the boots, ''Which is why I'm giving you a day off.''

''I think you're forgetting you're no longer in charge here, rebel king,'' I tease, but still sprawled under the warmth of the blankets, not exactly dying to get up and leave the beauty of it.

''You're still a gunner under my command,'' he smiles, ''Aren't you?''

''Sir, yes, sir,'' I wink with a clumsy military salute. 

He laughs, ''Stop being cute or I'll never leave this tent.''

''I'd tell you not to leave but...''

''Yeah,'' he says, adjusting his jacket, ''Get something to eat. Spend some time with your dad. But rest. And don't worry about Finn.''

*

''Can you hold it?'' dad asks as he inspects the insides of an Ark wall, checking the wiring, while I hold the metal panel up.

''Dad, I'm not as scrawny as you remember me, yeah I can hold it.''

''I'm sorry, I forgot my daughter's a warrior now,'' he teases, ''Tell me if that light blinks red.''

''What is it exactly that we're doing again?''

''This side of the station died with the impact; I'm trying to find the root of the problem, see if we can get power through again,'' he explains, ''Why are you so curious anyway? You always hated this stuff.''

''Well, I have to do _something_ around here, while Clarke is trying to figure out how to get our friends back. Bellamy didn't want me to do anything today. We're so used to reporting to him I think we half-forget we're not in the Drop-Ship camp anymore.''

''Bellamy, eh?'' dad speaks, now half-inside the wall, his head so far in he needs a flashlight to see in the middle of the day, ''A good young man that Blake kid. Troublesome, but good.''

I don't know why I flush with some sort of half-pride half-embarrassment. I'm happy dad has a good opinion of Bellamy, but it's still a bit weird. He's definitely on to something, and I haven't told him anything. It's a good thing he can't see my reaction too. For a split-second I am back to being an embarrassed little girl.

''Yeah, without him we wouldn't have survived.''

''He shot Jaha.''

''He was desperate. And he was pardoned,'' I say instantly, ''I would have done the same.''

''I didn't mean anything by it,'' dad says, as though saying _''relax''_ , and though I can't see his face I can practically hear the smile, ''If he's cared for you when I couldn't, I'm grateful.''

Well, no official announcements needed, apparently. Dad knows. Which is great, having it out of the way. Even though he never showed it, dad was always wary of boys, ever since Cole. He always had an eye on whoever was around me, without me even able to notice it. The only boy he ever trusted was John Murphy, and that was no wonder. Back in the day, John would have killed for me. I would have killed for him too.

But I don't like the way dad had phrased that. Something about it just doesn't sit right with me.

''Bellamy is great, dad. And I care about him a lot,'' I say, still feeling a bit awkward about it all, ''He's cared for the hundred as a whole. He's done all he could to keep us alive. So did Clarke. So did I; so did almost everyone.''

I can see him nod, now twisting the wire around another, ''You proved to be tougher than any of us knew.''

''But _I_ cared for myself. No one else. For a long while at least. You don't know what it was like in the beginning. I hunted, I fought, I slept with an eye open and a knife next to my head. I licked my own wounds. All me.''

He drops the wires, turns around, and steps out. I close down the panel. He has some sort of broken look on his face. Almost guilty.

''You shouldn't have had to,'' he shakes his head, then places a hand on my cheek, ''You were just a kid.''

'' _Were_ ,'' I repeat, emphasizing the point, placing a hand over his, giving him just a small smile because this isn't his fault no matter how he feels, ''The reason I'm still alive is that I no longer am.''

He frowns at that, hating it, I know - hating the reality of it. Because it's true; the kid in me is dead and gone, and he couldn't have protected it. He can't bring the kid back either. I don't need him to take care of me anymore; I don't need anyone. I can only decide to let him, but I don't need him, not in that way. What I need of him now is just to be there. To be there and be dad and stay alive because I love him and he's the last remaining thread of my past life that I can't even look back on anymore because it's too painful. 

''I'm proud of you,'' he says, in spite of himself.

''I know,'' I smile, ''Now let's get back to work.''

''We can't,'' he says, taking a rag from the pile of tools he's brought to clean his hands, ''Not without Wick anyway.''

''Should I bring him?''

''He needs to check this entire side, because I fear we might need to completely re-design it.''

''Damn. That bad?''

''Yeah.''

''Monty would probably have some bright ideas,'' I smile, then almost shudder, ''God, I hope he's okay.''

''You were tough enough to survive this much,'' dad tries to encourage me, ''If that's anything to go by, I'd give the kids in the mountain more credit.''

I smile in appreciation, ''I'll go get Wick.''

*

''Raven!'' I call out - the room looks empty.

''Wassup?'' she peeks out of what seems like a big metal locker, some tools in her hands.

''You busy?''

''Eh, a bit of this bit of that,'' she shrugs, taking the stuff to the worktable. Her limp seems lesser than yesterday, but it's still there, together with the brace as a terrible reminder of all the damage John Murphy has done, ''Why?''

''Just checking on you,'' I shrug, ''I was actually looking for Wick.''

''Ugh,'' she rolls her eyes, ''Why do you need his annoying ass?''

I chuckle, ''Dad needs him.''

''He should be back soon,'' she replies, looking for something across the room, ''He always is. Never gives me a break.''

''You're getting around pretty well,'' I say, then instantly half-regret it. I feel bad for her, but I don't pity her and I don't want it to sound like that. After everything, pity is the last thing I could feel for Raven Reyes. Respect, admiration, fondness, maybe annoyance, and trust. Jealousy once too, but no longer. All of those things, but never pity.

Thankfully, she doesn't seem to take any offence in it. She even offers a smile, though it never reaches her eyes. She's still coping. She looks like she has it together, but it will be a while until that's really true.

''Dealing with it,'' she says, ''You seen Finn?''

''No,'' I sigh, ''I'm kind of avoiding the camp altogether. Been helping dad all morning. You?''

''Yeah. He's... dealing with it.''

''It's a whole lot to deal with,'' I reason, ''We should just let him, you know. Let him deal with it. Let him just... work around camp, and not be up on his ass. It might be more helpful.''

''Reyes, I'm going to blow your mind! Guess what kind of brilliant design I just- Oh. We have visitors.''

Raven rolls her eyes, but I can't help but chuckle at Wick's playfulness, straight from the door. There aren't many people around still making light of days and spreading positive vibes through some humor, be it lousy or not. Jasper used to be like that... And Finn, even. Not anymore.

''You're needed, Wick, leave the premises,'' Raven bickers.

''Dad's in the west ward,'' I explain, ''And it seems like you're gonna have your hands full.''

''Ouch,'' he frowns, ''That bad?''

''Yeah. I'd bring snacks if I were you.''

*

''You're pretty good with that,'' I hear Octavia say behind me as I unleash another arrow that gets stuck in the wooden post. We have a handful of those behind the Ark station, at everyone's disposal for practice. They serve well enough.

''Practice,'' I say, ''I've had a bit of it over the past days.''

''Can I try?''

''Only if you train with me,'' I smile, handing her the bow, ''Lincoln taught you how to fight, right?''

''Yeah,'' she says, taking an arrow from my quiver, some sourness entering her voice at the remembrance of him, ''He taught me a lot. The basics of it, at least.''

''Then it's a deal,'' I say, ''Spread your legs a bit. Shoulders relaxed. Arrow at eye level.''

She figures out the rules of it immediately, and her posture is flawless. I'm almost jealous at how naturally talented she apparently is at everything martial. It had taken me much longer to figure out the perfect stance. She aims, and she releases, and the arrow flies past the post.

''That's great.''

''Great? It flew right past.''

''That's just a matter of practice,'' I explain, ''But you got the posture down to perfection. Just focus, when you aim. Relax and try not to think about anything.''

''So what now?'' she asks as she aims, not referring to archery at all, ''Bellamy told you anything?''

''No,'' I tell her, ''I haven't seen him since this morning. I don't think he knows anything either. We wait on the Council.''

''I don't _know_ how much _longer_ we can wait,'' she hisses and growls through her teeth as she releases the arrow, this one flying past the post as well. 

''I know,'' I say, though calmly, ''But we'll get them out.''

She aims once more, anger seemingly gone and composure back - she's figured out how to rein in her anger quickly. 

''Lincoln too,'' she adds, almost as an after-thought.

I don't know how possible that is or just what kind of trouble he's in, but I indulge her. ''Lincoln too,'' I nod.

*

Some sort of harmony always falls upon the camp with nightfall. Darkness does that to you - makes you light fires and do your last of day's work diligently and it makes you cling to friends and hope to God no boogeymen come in the night. Except that the boogeymen are very real now. And they could very well come.

With the Guard here we aren't completely defenseless in case of sudden retaliation but it still wouldn't be enough should the Grounders decide to unleash hell upon us. Finn has been cleared on the Council, but the threat of the Grounders' vengeance still looms above us all. We all know, somewhere, somehow, that it's a possibility. Not many say it out loud though.

I've seen Finn across the camp, going about, from one task to another, as though afraid to sit down and be alone with his own self. Keeping busy seems as good a technique as any, especially when the girl you love seems to completely ignore you, or - as Finn has said - refuses to even look at you. I understand Clarke, though. That doesn't mean it isn't heartbreaking to see Finn in the state that he's in. He doesn't talk to anyone much - that I see at least. The only person I've seen him with a few times throughout the day is Murphy. Murphy has to have seen me, but he seems to subtly be avoiding _me_. That means he still has some of his sharp wits about him. Best he stays away.

I tense when I feel two arms wrap around my waist, then relax when Bellamy place his head on my shoulder, his breath tickling my neck. I am too used to being on high alert.

''It's just me,'' he kisses my cheek.

''Old habits die hard.''

''Good thing you don't have a knife on you then.''

''Better hope my dad doesn't have one,'' I joke. He straightens up a bit, in mock fear. I laugh, wholeheartedly; he seems to really loosen up and have some fun around me, which makes me beyond happy. I am glad I can offer him that much with my presence, if only for a few moments.

''Is he watching?''

''He might be,'' I grin, ''Don't worry, though. He sings praises about you.''

''What- really?'' he turns me around, a frown of amusement on his somewhat scarred but still beautiful face.

''Yes, really,'' I smile, ''So you're off the hook.''

''What did he say?''

''I'm not going to quote my father, Bellamy,'' I chuckle, pulling on his hand, ''Come on.''

''Where are we going?''

''Anywhere I can't see Murphy's face.''

''Yeah, about that,'' he reminds me, ''We should talk about Murphy.''

''Right,'' I say, turning back to flash him a grin, ''But I'd rather not talk about him _before_ sex. Fatal turn-off.''

He smirks, picks up the pace, only to lift me up and literally carry me into his tent to our left. If no one's seen that, I'm sure my squeal could be heard.


	34. Chapter 34

We lie in the somewhat humid warmth of our tent, my face on his chest and his arms around me. His fingers paint invisible shapes on my back while I listen to his heartbeat. Calm and silence; or at least as calm and silent it can get with the clamor of Camp Jaha outside and the million troubles bothering us all. We can never enjoy the moment of bliss for too long. There is always _something_ ; and I feel like there will always _be something_.

I sigh, ''You talked to Finn?''

His hand is playing with my hair now, ''Yeah. He'll be fine.''

I wonder if he's said that just to comfort me, or because he actually believes it. All of us have done things that we have to be able to come back from. _Finn is no different, right?_

''You think the Grounders are coming?''

''I don't know,'' he sighs, and I know he wanted to say 'yes'. Bellamy always expects the Grounders to come back. Always.

''We need to get our people back,'' I say, ''Not sit shaking in fear of the Grounders-''

''Everyone wants to get our people back,'' he assures me, ''But we can't get them back without a plan.''

''What's the plan then, Bellamy?'' I look up into his eyes, ''Because we've been sitting here for days while they might be getting slaughtered for all we know.''

''Working on it,'' he says, his thumb brushing over my lips, ''Trust me.''

I nod, calmed by his words, his touch. Hypnotized by his eyes. He's doing the best he can. And right now, here in his arms, everything doesn't seem as hopeless as it sometimes does.

''You wanted to talk to me about Murphy,'' I remind him.

''You first,'' he says, ''You used to be friends, right? Back on the Ark?''

''Right,'' I take a breath, ''More like siblings than friends, really. We kind of grew up together.''

''Really?''

''Yeah. When he wasn't being raised by his parents, he was being raised by mine. And honestly, it was much the same for me,'' I admit, ''His parents were good people. Alex Murphy treated me like a daughter of his own. They didn't have much, unlike us. We were over at my place more often than we were over at his,'' I remember, ''Especially later on, when things got bad.''

''What happened?'' Bellamy asks.

''It all went wrong when he lost his parents,'' I frown at the memories, ''It wasn't even the fact that he'd lost them, but... the way that he did.''

''What do you mean?'' he rakes his fingers through my hair.

''I, uh- I feel like he should tell you,'' I say, ''The whole story. I owe nothing to him, especially the John Murphy of now, but that John Murphy had shared those moments with me and I don't think it's my place to-''

''I get it,'' he kisses my forehead, ''I do.''

''Anyway, things went to shit. I tried to be there for him but I think he wanted to destroy himself. He pushed everyone away.''

Bellamy takes a moment, as though processing it all, before he says: ''It's hard to imagine a different Murphy.''

''Yeah, well, when we were kids, he was always... He was bad in school. And he was always causing trouble. But it was always in childish boundaries, you know?'' I smile despite myself, ''He was always territorial, always liked that place of power among the boys; that's for sure. But ultimately he was a good kid. The one who always tried to protect me from bad boys or potential bullies... He'd do anything to cheer me up whenever I felt like shit. He'd watch movies he hated with me over and over again just because he knew I loved them. When I got sick, dad would tell him to get the hell out because he'd catch it too, but no - he always stayed right there and cheered me up and brought me tea.''

Bellamy's arms around me tighten a bit.

''We were family to each other. We knew nothing else. It had been like that since we could remember and we couldn't imagine it being any different for the rest of our lives. It was just... the way things should be. Until it wasn't.''

Bellamy takes another moment, his fingertips still massaging my scalp gently. I don't think he really knows what to say. He knows what it's like to have a sister, so shedding this sort of light on John Murphy has to have him a bit baffled at least.

''I think I get it now,'' he says.

''What?''

''His anger,'' he replies, ''It makes more sense.''

''It doesn't justify anything,'' I argue, ''Not a damn thing.''

''No, it doesn't. But it explains things.''

''I don't owe him anything. Everything he did for me back on the Ark, I did for him too. That score is settled. But everything he did on the ground-?''

''He's been pardoned,'' Bellamy tries to reason.

''So what?! Am I supposed to just forgive him? For almost killing us all right before the Grounders? For almost killing you?''

Bellamy takes a big breath. He looks sort of resigned. As though he hasn't exactly forgiven, but he's just tired of holding grudges too. 

''I think... we've all done things,'' he says finally, ''Myself included. As you said - that score is settled.''

''Well, you're free to forgive him for almost hanging you right before my eyes, but I can't.''

''You forgave me for hanging him.''

''That was different. You didn't hang him. That wasn't your choice. I understood that later. What he did - that was his deliberate choice.''

''True,'' he says, ''But he also saved my life.''

That takes a moment to sink in. ''What?'' I frown, looking up. He looks back, some sort of softness in his eyes and voice.

''A few days ago. Pulled me right back from over the cliff,'' he explains, ''If it hadn't been for him, I'd be dead. Finn and Monroe couldn't have held the rope.''

''I don't understand,'' I admit, ''After everything? I- He'd _said_ he wanted you dead.''

''I think he just wanted payback, one way or another,'' he says, ''He got it, sort of.''

''So, you forgive him?!''

''He's forgiven me, I think. Another score settled.''

''Bellamy, I wouldn't trust him if I was you-''

''Of course not,'' he assures me, ''Giving someone another chance does not necessarily include being stupid. I always have an eye on him. You should too.''

*

Another day of discussing a potential plan among the Council members and Bellamy and Clarke has me anxious beyond belief. In my eyes, it's another day wasted. I can't even think about it, about what might be happening to our friends trapped in the mountain. If I think about it, I'll go crazy; so I try to keep both my hands and mind busy.  


It's hard to find your place at camp when all you've known is hunting and gathering, or just standing watch and being a gunner. Now that the Ark is down, apparently there is no need for us 'kids' to do most of that anymore. 

So I spend most of the day helping Raven around. I think she appreciates not having to move around for every little thing. She's really focused on fixing our radio problem, trying to contact the other stations. I've told her I already found two, and found no survivors - I told Abby as much. But there has to be survivors elsewhere. It's more need than faith - we need people.

The little free time I have around noon I spend training with Octavia. She's undoubtedly kicking my ass even though she's going easy on me. The truth is she needs her mind off things even more than I do. I seem to be helping her more than she's helping me.

At late lunch, I see Finn, eating like he barely has any will to, Murphy seated right next to him. Seeing Murphy almost has me turn the other way around, but Finn needs to know he isn't the devil and none of us think he is either. So I go and sit right across from them, mentally preparing myself for dealing with Murphy. It's Murphy that looks like he wants to get up and leave at the sight of me instead. None of us say anything for a long while as we eat.

''I never thought I'd say this, but I kind of miss hunting,'' I say, having another spoonful of the lousy stew in front of me, ''We could catch us a nice fat little boar. I could do with a fresh steak right about now.''

''The adults go hunting now,'' Murphy drawls, showing with the tone of his voice what he thinks about that, ''When I mastered knife-throwing I didn't think I'd end up mopping floors.''

''Be glad you get that much,'' I spit before I can stop myself.

''Tasha. Don't,'' Finn says.

''You're taking his side,'' I say sarcastically, ''The Doomsday is truly upon us.''

''There are no sides anymore,'' Finn says.

''Well, I've suddenly lost my appetite,'' Murphy stands up, ''You have fun in your... self-pity and- being an unrelenting bitch.''

''Screw you, Murphy.''

He walks away like he just doesn't care anymore. Finn gives me a look I can't exactly discern, before we both just give up on everything and try to make ourselves eat despite the loss of appetite. Why is everything so crappy?

''You talked to Clarke?'' I ask after a while.

''No,'' he swallows, looking at his plate still.

''She just needs time, Finn. She's just overwhelmed.''

''Yeah.''

''It's time to move on the mountain and put all of this behind us. Murphy's right; we can't wallow in self-pity.''

''She can't even look at me,'' he hisses, now looking straight into my eyes. He looks so lost. So lost and confused and hurt. 

''You don't get it, Finn,'' I reason, ''What happened is on her shoulders as much as it's on yours. Can't you see that?''

His resolve shatters a bit as he looks at me. He is understanding, slowly. ''I did what I did. It was my fault.''

''But you put it on her shoulders. You did it for her even though she never asked you to or wanted you to,'' I insist, ''We've all done things, Finn. The blood I spilled and lives I took? I'd never put those on Bellamy.''

He takes a moment, frowns harder, his eyes falling on the table. He understands what I mean, but it doesn't help as I wanted it too. It just seems to throw him even deeper into the sea of self-pity.

''I never seem to stop hurting her,'' he says.

''We've all hurt people we love,'' I say, ''Suck it up.''


	35. Chapter 35

''The Reaper tunnels,'' Clarke points on the map, ''Are still our best chance of an exit.''

Bellamy shakes his head, ''It's too damn risky.''

''Well, what about this one,'' I point to the west wing, ''You said they don't use it much. The manned security shouldn't be as tight. We blow it open.''

''All of those doors withstood nuclear war,'' Bellamy argues.

''We said as much about the bridge,'' I insist, ''Maybe Raven could do it.''

''No way,'' Clarke shakes her head, ''Even if she could, the west wing's way too off. The Mountain Men will be back on their feet and fighting back by the time we even try to get to our people.''

''So you suggest a stealth mission,'' I say.

''Hey, what's with your arm?'' Bellamy asks as he clasps my wrist. With my sleeves rolled up you can see the new, fresh bruise forming on my right forearm.

''Hm? Oh. Octavia,'' I shrug off with a smile, ''She's kicking my ass, but I'm learning.''

Bellamy looks at me with a worried frown, as though his sister continuously getting bruised up has been enough on his plate, without me added to it. He opens his mouth wanting to say something, but instead he says: 

''I'm gonna get drinks.''

''What about the tunnel,'' I ask, ''The tunnel they use to dispose of the bodies?''

''I don't think so,'' she shakes her head again, ''Too steep and slippery, and it goes too high up for anyone to be able to latch onto something.''

''Crap.''

''It's a labyrinth,'' Clarke says with despair, ''We got to the dam through this tunnel. It's all connected to the mine system. That's our way in and that's it,'' she insists. 

''Sure, if we can get past the Reapers and the Mountain Men,'' Bellamy says upon his return, ''I swear to God, if your mom doesn't sanction a mission soon, I'm going by myself.''

''You won't be by yourself,'' Clarke assures him.

''How's Finn doing, anyway?'' he asks.

''I haven't talked to him since we got back. I don't know what to say. He just... kept shooting.''

''Maybe you should,'' I suggest.

''We're at war, Clarke,'' Bellamy reasons, ''We've all done things.''

As though summoned, Finn appears. ''Hey.''

''Hey,'' Clarke replies awkwardly. I pull out a chair for him. I can't stand seeing him just stand there looking like he's ready to fly right out of his skin and into outer space.

''I'm gonna get you something for that bruise,'' Bellamy tells me, getting up, ''It's a splinter in my eye.'' 

I almost snort.

''Mount Weather?'' Finn asks once he sits and sees the map, ''What's the plan?''

''Still working on it,'' Clarke replies curtly.

''Ah! Check it out,'' Murphy announces his arrival out of nowhere, pulling up a chair himself - I can smell the scent of moonshine from his cup, ''Salvaged Monty's still from the drop ship. Now, I guess, you know, if they could just salvage Monty, huh?''

''What the _fuck_ are you doing here, Murphy?'' I growl. Why does he _have to_ be an asshole and piss me off? Does it feed his soul in some sick, twisted way? I could punch him. I could honest-to-god punch him right now just enough to draw some blood and get arrested. It's the thought of getting arrested again that calms me, mostly.

''Easy! It was just a joke,'' he raises up his hands in surrender - he's in a mood too good for my taste, ''Ok. You, uh, told them we were cleared?''

''No.''

''Well, it looks like our pardon for surviving includes our time on the ground. Now bigger fish to fry, I guess,'' he shrugs.

''We did what we had to do,'' Finn says, defeated, as though he's said it a million times by now, ''I gotta go.''

Murphy whistles as he watches Finn go, his entire being consisting of nothing but sarcasm. ''Trouble in paradise?'' he asks.

''Just because they pardoned you doesn't mean I have,'' Clarke retorts.

''Clarke!'' Raven rushes up, then spits a ''Beat it, Murphy!'' when she sees him sitting there with us. I am surprised he doesn't argue but just obeys like a puppy. Maybe he really does feel bad about her leg. ''Well, then, have a good one,'' he only says, complying. 

I can't read him anymore, and that just makes me even more nervous about this whole Murphy-is-back thing.

''What is it?''

''I know why we haven't heard from any of the other Ark stations. Mount Weather's jamming us.''

''What?'' we ask in unison.

''Show me,'' Clarke urges, before they both rush away to Raven's little workshop. I decide to stay and wait for Bellamy to fill him in on it.

''Where'd everyone go?'' he frowns when he places the ice cubes wrapped up in a rag gently on my arm. I hiss; the cold of it is almost painful.

''Clarke went with Raven, it seems like she figured out the radio problem. Mount Weather's been jamming us.''

''Wha- How? If they can do that then-''

''Yeah.''

*

Clarke and Raven seem to have managed to get through to Abby, because the next day she is marching with us to destroy Mount Weather's radio tower. I can hardly believe it, really, what with Abby literally fighting us every step of the way. Maybe it's the fact that Mount Weather literally crashed that Exodus ship that has convinced her.

I don't question it. I'm just glad my dad isn't making too much of a fuss about it, and once he realizes he can no longer really forbid or allow me anything, he is content with at least getting the permission to come with us. Not that he's particularly needed since we won't be doing anything constructive but blowing up things. Either way, it's an extra gun. I just hate the feeling of having to watch out for him. It's a weird feeling, what with him having watched out for me all my life. But my dad and Abby and everyone else's parents that came down do not know the Earth the way we do. They think they're still our protectors, but the roles have half-reversed the moment they came down. They just can't see that yet.

At least we're finally doing something, and that's enough for me. What I do question about the whole thing is taking Finn with us. He was pardoned and cleared and all that, and I am okay with him, but he doesn't seem to be back to himself yet. Putting a gun back into his hands doesn't seem like the smartest idea, as much as I want him to know he's still trusted.

On the other hand, he's our best tracker. 

Octavia seems to be reading my thoughts.

''I can't believe they let Finn come,'' she says as we hike, next to each other. 

''He's the best tracker we've got,'' I explain, ''And if we split up, I won't be enough.''

''Don't forget to look up,'' Bellamy reminds everyone, ''The Grounders use the trees. That's how we lost John Mbege.''

Everyone looks to him, nodding in understanding. That rifle now looks more natural in his hands than in any of the guards'. The simple way he walks - sure but alert - shows that he knows what he's doing and what he could be dealing with any moment now. I think the others see that - Abby, my dad, the guards. I think for a split moment there they finally realized we might actually know what we're doing down here, and Bellamy most of all. I feel so irrationally proud of him in that moment, I can almost feel my chest physically swell with it. He's come such a long way.

''To think you hated his ass once,'' Octavia nudges me with a smirk on her face.

''I never hated him,'' I almost roll my eyes. She chuckles with a nod of surrender.

''You're good for him,'' she says, ''What we've done to survive, it's hardened us all. You keep him... him. No matter what happens out there and no matter what we come back from, with you there he just... shrugs it off his back.''

I don't know what to say to that, mostly because - in my eyes - she's right, only in reverse. Bellamy keeps _me_ soft. Bellamy makes _my_ rough edges invisible. He helps _me_ heal _my_ scars.

''He's good for me,'' I only say. A small smile still plays on Octavia's lips, but she doesn't push the topic.

We walk for hours, watching our footing and sipping on water and staying aware of the treelines. The sun seems to be quicker at getting down, reminding me of the impending winter we can barely prepare for in the midst of everything happening. We walk and walk and walk, until the Blake siblings decide to reveal their master plan to me as we fall back behind the others. 

''Listen. Babe,'' Bellamy tells me as we walk, barely above a whisper, but the tone of his voice makes me nervous immediately - I know something's up, ''This is it for us. We're gonna slip out. O and I are going east. We're gonna try and find another entrance to the mountain. You have to cover for us for a while.''

''What are you talking about?''

''We have to do th-''

''I know we have to do this, but you're not doing it alone! I can't believe you!'' I hiss, ''I'm coming with.''

''Tasha, we need the rest not to notice until we've covered enough ground,'' Octavia says, ''We can't do that without you.''

''O, trust me, they'll notice pretty damn soon anyway,'' I argue, ''I can't believe you thought I'd let you go without me. You should have told me about this sooner.''

''Tasha-,'' Bellamy starts.

''Listen to me, Bellamy Blake. I'll be damned if we're parting ways willingly ever again. You hear me?''

He looks torn, like he's deciding, like I haven't made up my mind. He looks hesitant, but also soft. Soft at my stubborn display of affection.

''Well whatever we're doing I suggest we do it now,'' Octavia urges, looking ahead. None of our people are looking back on us. It's now or never.

''Come on!'' Octavia slips away into the trees, back bent, almost on tip toes. Without another second of hesitation, we have to follow.

We rush away in complete silence, minding where we step, trying to cover as much ground as we can before anyone figures out we're gone. Bellamy is tailing us and checking if we're being followed. 

''We're clear,'' he says, ''I think we're safe for now.''

I can literally see the tension leave all of our shoulders as he says that. Straightening up a bit, we still keep to the growth and shadows, but we walk more freely.

''How long until Abby sends the guards after us?'' I ask.

''Hopefully too late,'' Octavia says, using her machete to cut some of the growth away from our path. Creating shortcuts isn't the easiest way of moving about, but it's the safest, most concealed way for us now.

After a while we've made it to the area they meant to explore, though we're now out in the open. Instinctively like breathing, I have an arrow at the ready - pointed down at the ground to be sure, but ready.

''According to Clarke, before the bombs, there were buildings everywhere here,'' Bellamy says, ''I'm guessing some of them had access to the bunker. So we're looking for ruins, anything that's man-made, ok?''

''Hey! Blake!'' someone calls, and when the guards appear out of the bushes I don't mean to have my arrow trained at them, I really don't. It's so instinctive, as I turn around, the very realization of it really scares me. But for some reason, I'm not putting it down either.

''Let's go, right now,'' one of the guards says. I realize I don't know either of their names.

''In case you've forgotten, we're not under your command,'' Bellamy replies.

''Don't make us do this the hard way,'' the guard insists, turning to me, ''Put that bow down!''

''Not until you walk away,'' I say.

''Come on, Scott, 47 of our people are prisoners in this mountain,'' Bellamy argues.

''And that's why we're out here!''

''Wrong,'' I say, not moving my bow yet, ''You're out here to find other stations of the Ark. We're out here to try and find our friends. Now we should all go back to our respective tasks.''

''Guys,'' Octavia calls, barely above a whisper. I look to where she's looking, and when I realize what I'm seeing, my hands lower my weapon by themselves.

Critters, and hundreds of them, swarming.

''What are they doing?'' Scott asks.

_Running._

''Acid fog,'' Bellamy says it just as I put it together, ''We need cover, now!''

I fumble for my pack immediately - the small tent cover could see us through. I can see it approaching now, the familiar menacing yellow mist. It's coming faster and faster, and faster than I remember it to be. I realize half of me is starting to panic, so I shut it down, because panic would cripple me, and it would kill me. I need my hands to work, and to work deftly and fast.

''O! O! Come back here!'' 

I turn around - Bellamy is after Octavia who I don't know what the hell she's even doing. ''Bellamy!'' I call, my tent already out and ready to use, but neither of them listen, and the fog is closing in on us, ''Guys! Fuck!''

''Hey! Hey!'' he finally calls, ''Over here!''

When I drop that tent canvas on the ground and run to them, I realize I blindly trust Bellamy Blake with my life. The thought of it is fleeting as I rush to them, like it never flickered in my mind. And once I realize we're uncovering what seems to be a man-made construction under the growth, the adrenaline kicks in in double dose, the danger of the acid fog with the possibility of finding a way to our friends combined. My hands work like mad.

''I found it,'' Octavia breathes, uncovering a door.

''Come on, pull!'' Bellamy shouts as the men pull on the metal thing together, and all Octavia and I can do is stand there and wait and watch the damn fog approach.

At this point, the fear of getting incinerated is more real than ever before.

''Hurry up!'' Octavia almost screams.

After another eternity long moment, the door slams open.


	36. Chapter 36

One of the guards didn't make it, but once the initial shock is gone - as horrible as the fact is - it hardly matters. All I can think about now that we're inside is my dad and the rest of our people.

''They all had tents,'' Bellamy tells me like he can read my mind, a comforting hand on my arm, ''They're fine.''

This place we entered is dark as death. Without our flashlights we wouldn't be able to see an inch ahead of us.

''What is this place?'' Scott asks as the rays of light fall on the dust and grime covered cars that haven't been used in a century. I can hear something like rats squeaking around. The air here is so stale and close, all of my instincts tell me to get out of there as soon as we can.

''A garage.''

''More like a tomb,'' Octavia says, drawing her machete. I turn off and put back my flashlight, and bring the bow back.

''Stay sharp, guys,'' I say, ''We don't know what could be in here.''

''Look, I'm sorry about your man,'' Bellamy turns to Sgt. Scott, ''But we need to find an access door to Mount Weather-''

''Hey, not so fast-''

''Sir, that fog could keep us pinned down for another...''

Bellamy's voice trails off once he realizes Sgt Scott has put a gun in his hands. I can hardly believe my eyes.

''We'll split up,'' Scott says, ''Be back here in 15. Be safe. Let's go.''

''Man, this place is creepy,'' I say as Bellamy lightens up the interiors of the cars as we pass - some of them still have personal belongings inside of them. It's an oddly heart-wrenching sight - the key-chains, the cigarette boxes, an article of clothing or some snacks here and there. The worst are the toys and baby things. I really didn't need to see those. ''God.''

''Eyes ahead,'' Bellamy reminds, though he can't resist taking a look himself. His hand touches the small of my back comfortingly. It does help.

''I don't see any exits,'' Octavia says.

''We should keep to the walls,'' I suggest, ''Might feel something up again.''

''What is that sound?'' Bellamy asks.

''Rats. Or cockroaches. Or both,'' I reply, ''I'm really trying to shut it down, it's making me nervous.''

That, and the way our very breaths echo throughout this place.

''There's a door!'' Octavia announces, her light landing on a door on the far other side. We rush to it immediately, the sound of our feet sounding way too loud in this deafening silence. That, too, is unnerving.

And just as she makes for it, just as her hand is about to touch the knob, we hear screams - terrifying, off-the-top-of lungs screams of horror. A breath hitches in my throat. We freeze for an instant. And then, without a second thought or a need for discussion, we go back. Because what choice do we have?

It's only on the way back that you realize just how huge the place is. I let Bellamy and Octavia walk ahead of me with their flashlighs, my hands nervous and a bit sweaty on the bow and nocked arrow. Those screams meant someone's hurt, and bad. My hands know it before my mind does - I might have to shoot.

There is music when we come back, creepy repetitive music that seems to be coming from one of those toys they used to have a hundred years ago. Every hair on my body stands upright. The half-dead silence, our breathing and feet echoing, that music, the sounds of roaches and rats that seem to have died down just a bit, and no sign of the guards. They screamed, and then they were gone.

''Scott?'' Bellamy calls out weakly as we skulk in the shadows, ''Are you there?''

No answers.

''I don't like this,'' I say, restless, shifting from one foot to the other. My eyes dart everywhere, despite not being able to see in the darkness where our light doesn't reach. I still strain them.

Then I see light coming from the other side.

''Bell,'' I nudge him, ''There.''

We skulk over as stealthily as we can, but once we find the guards' guns and flashlights on the floor, it's stealth be damned. I know it then - we're already in trouble.

''What's that?'' Octavia asks, and I strain my ears to hear it past the creepy music - there is a hush. Whispering. Movement maybe. My body reacts on its own.

''We need to get out of here,'' I say.

But we don't move. Instead, Bellamy's gun follows the sound, and once the light of his flashlight falls on the source of it, I could have screamed, if not for the shock and adrenaline. And maybe the old me would have. Zombie movies over a hundred years old were nothing compared to seeing the real deal - actual humans apparently eating away at another human. I can't tell which of the guards it is, not that he'd be recognizable by now.

''Reapers,'' Octavia breathes. 

And that seems to be what sets them off, because the next thing we know, they're attacking us. Bellamy reacts fast and guns both of them down.

''There has to be more of them,'' I urge, my voice shaky.

''Then we better move,'' Octavia says.

''O.''

''What?''

''Take this,'' Bellamy hands her a gun, ''Now we move.''

It's not long before we find the other body, though there's only one Reaper tearing it apart. Bellamy's gun clicks ready.

''Don't!'' Octavia cries.

''Wha-,'' I breathe, my eyes unmoving from the terrifying sight, my hands ready to shoot should Bellamy fail.

''It's Lincoln!''

She takes a step forward. How the hell could it be Lincoln? It doesn't look like Lincoln at all now.

''Lincoln! Lincoln, it's me. It's Octavia!'' she cries out. He's on his feet now, making toward us, but he doesn't look like he can hear her, let alone recognize her.

''O, get back,'' I say, pulling the arrow back to my ear, ready to loose.

But she doesn't, and then Lincoln is on her, and I'm ready to send the arrow flying but I can't - because in the dark and in the struggle I could very well kill Octavia. I don't know what the hell to do, and it's even worse for Bellamy, as we share a look of complete panic. But then she's out of Lincoln's grip, and the next thing we know he's upon us, and before either of us can react, Octavia's shot him in the leg, and Bellamy uses the chance to knock him out.

''Holy crap,'' I breathe out, barely believing my eyes, desperately trying to breathe properly, my voice quivering beyond my control, ''Holy crap.''

Some of the adrenaline is wearing off; I am shaky now. I can't even imagine how Octavia has to feel. I can't even form that thought.

''Come on,'' Bellamy grabs Octavia's arm, and picks her up, ''We need to get somewhere safe.''

*

When we do get to a safe spot, inside of a car that seems to have darkened windows, it's another type of hell that ensues. Octavia is having a full blown panic attack. I don't know if it's more painful watching her or watching Bellamy watch her. She can't stop shaking, even spazzing; as much as she tries, she can't get herself to breathe properly. She's panicking, and she's sobbing. Bellamy holds her through it, but looks ready to break himself. ''He's a Reaper,'' she keeps breathing. I could have cried right then and there, but I'm just trying to fight off coughing fits from all the dust inside the damn car.

''She could use some water,'' I say, realizing my pack is swallowed by the acid fog. But she seems to be calming down a bit now.

''A Reaper, how is that even possible?'' she asks desperately, ''He just looked right through me- How-?''

''Shhhh!'' Bellamy warns, and my insides sink down into my heels all over again. Lincoln is walking past, like a zombie, and then he turns and stares right through the glass and I freeze; I can barely breathe at the sight of him. 

His eyes look dead. Or maybe someone else's. Like there's someone else inside Lincoln's body just using him as a vessel. Those are not the eyes of the healer we knew. There is blood all over him.

''Can he see us?''

''I don't know.''

I don't think so. He would have done something to attack if he could. Instead he just touches the glass, and in another moment he drags himself on.

Then, as it all sinks in, Octavia starts another episode.

''Hey! O!'' I try to grab her wrists.

''Shhh! Hey! Hey! Just listen to me!'' Bellamy manages to take hold of her, and holds her firmly, ''We'll get him back! I promise.''

I like the idea of it, but I don't like that ''I promise'' one bit. I am instantly afraid Bellamy is promising something impossible. Because as much as I want to try, I can't see a way back for Lincoln. 

How?

*

It doesn't take long for Bellamy to come up with a plan, as good a plan as we could have whipped up in all that panic and on short notice. We don't exactly have a lot of other options.

''You sure you're ready for this?'' Bellamy asks.

''Yeah,'' Octavia nods shakily, taking in a firm breath.

''Okay. Draw him in. We'll do the rest.''

Octavia steps out in the clearance, searching for him. ''Lincoln! Lincoln! Can you hear me?!''

Arrow ready just in case, I make my way through the shadows across. If anything goes wrong, I'll be on the other side, and an arrow is better than a bullet. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that. But I stand ready.

Soon enough, Lincoln appears, staggering toward Octavia just as planned, and she just draws him further back. In another moment Bellamy is behind him, shocking him with the guards' baton until he's knocked out. Lincoln tumbles down, and Bellamy and Octavia just stand above him for a moment like they can't quite shake themselves awake from everything that seems to have just happened in a nightmare.

''Now what?'' I ask, joining them. That seems to wake them up from the daze. Lincoln lies right before my feet - he looks so helpless now.

''Now we take him home,'' Bellamy replies.

''Well, we better get on it fast, because we might not be alone yet,'' I reason.

''Come. Help me with him.''


	37. Chapter 37

Lincoln is heavy - really heavy. Three of us carry him together, and all three of us struggle. Bellamy handles it with most ease, which isn't surprising. I, on the other hand, feel like my arms will give in after a few miles. They don't though - we push onward, as fast as we can seeing as Lincoln could wake up any minute, and I don't think his lousily tied hands and feet would stop him in a Reaper rage. Every time I want to say something, I decide against it - wasted strength. It seems like ages until we make it to the old Drop-Ship, gallons of sweat that have gotten in my eyes. But at least Lincoln is out cold throughout.

''We have to tie him up.''

''Where?'' I ask Bellamy. We look around. The Drop-Ship barely looks the way I remember it. It's wiped empty. I was with Rand the last time I'd been here, I realize, and for a moment I wonder where he is and what he's doing. That thought is fleeting, gone before it came.

''Upper level,'' Bellamy urges, ''Come on.''

''What?'' Octavia asks.

''We have to,'' Bellamy says, guilt seeping into his voice at the remembrance of what he's done, ''We have to, O,'' he says again, as though to convince himself more than anyone else.

Octavia swallows something painful, before she gives a determined nod. I admire her for it, for all of it. But I still can't help feeling that this fight will be lost and it will scar her forever.

''Here we go again,'' I sigh, helping them haul Lincoln to the upper level. It's the hardest part thus far, but we manage. 

When we string him up the way we did when he was the enemy, the familiarity of it is almost suffocating.

Enemy. What is he now?

''When he wakes up, he's gonna pull at the chains with all his strength,'' Bellamy says, tightening it up, ''It needs to hold.''

''Bell, it will hold,'' Octavia says, ''You're gonna cut off his blood circulation.''

''O, we're gonna help him, but in the mean time I need to make sure he doesn't hurt any of us.''

''He won't,'' I say, ''We need to get back to camp and get Clarke. If we can do it before he goes ballistic, even better. You should go. I'll stay with O.''

''I think I can take care of myself,'' she replies, not unkindly, ''You should go with him.''

''As much as I hate him going out there alone, you need me more,'' I admit, ''There's about a million ways in which things could go wrong here.''

''She's right,'' Bellamy says, placing a hand at the small of my back, adding a more quiet ''Thank you.''

''Just get back here quickly, okay?''

He kisses my lips and says: ''As soon as I can.'' Then he leaves.

''Now we wait,'' Octavia says, sitting on the floor and looking up at Lincoln with the most heart-broken expression.

''Now we wait,'' I sigh.

*

It isn't long after Bellamy's gone that Lincoln wakes up. I am surprised he hasn't awoken earlier; the shock had knocked him out for quite a long while. His awakening is violent, as expected; but we still jump aback when he pulls on his chains. They will hold. They have to hold.

It will be hours before Bellamy is back, we know. It's not a short trek to Camp Jaha and back. We know, and yet I still half-expect him at any moment. I am on edge - both of us are, Octavia just appears calmer. She keeps a safe distance away from Lincoln, and she isn't having any of her panicky episodes now - I think because she knows it isn't an option. And maybe because now that we finally have Lincoln out, she has to worry about whether Clarke could actually help him at all. Maybe that's why she isn't pacing all over the place like I am. That's why we barely share a few words in the whole time we're stuck there. 

Nothing but an exchange or two, and the sound of chains being pulled and Lincoln growling like an animal. I think I would make the wait more difficult for her if I made her talk to me. She seems to have found her own way of dealing with it.

When Clarke and Bellamy finally come, the relief it brings me seems to make my entire body physically feel pounds lighter. I don't remember deciding to throw my arms around Bellamy's waist like he'll dissipate into thin air if I don't grasp for him. I also don't remember actively worrying, but I must have. When his hands caress my back and his lips find my forehead though, everything feels okay again for a moment, even though it isn't. Nothing is okay.

''It's ok, it's ok,'' Bellamy tells Clarke when she jumps back at the sight of Lincoln, ''He's been restrained.'' Lincoln only growls.

''I can't believe we're back here again,'' Clarke says weakly, exasperated.

''Can you help him?'' Octavia asks.

''I don't know,'' Clarke shakes her head, staring at Lincoln as he growls and snarls and pulls on his chains and wants nothing but to devour her whole, ''I knew Mount Weather controlled the Reapers. I had no idea they were creating them. If they can do that to Lincoln... What are they doing to our friends?''

''We can't think about that now,'' Bellamy says - he looks worried, more worried than before, ''Can you help him or not?''

''I can try.''

''Are you okay?'' I ask him, frowning up at him. Something is out of place. ''Did something happen?''

''The Grounders gave us an ultimatum,'' he says, scowling, ''Either we leave the camp, or they attack.''

''What?!'' Octavia all but shrieks before I can.

''No decision's been made yet,'' Bellamy adds, as though to pacify us while Clarke inspects Lincoln's body as closely as she possibly can with him in a rage, ''We'll figure it out,'' he turns to Octavia, ''You have enough to worry about right now so don't worry about that.''

She nods, albeit hesitantly.

''I need some air,'' I say, barely audibly, before I go down and step outside. The air on the upper level was always unnaturally warm, even back when we lived here, but now it is suffocating.

The sun is very low in the sky - it will set soon. The soft breeze gives me a shiver, though it's only partially because of the drop in temperature. I cross my arms on my chest instinctively. The clear cold air makes it easier to breathe, but it's all catching up with me now.

''Hey,'' I can hear Bellamy behind me before I can feel his hand touch tentatively behind my elbow, ''You alright?''

''I don't know,'' I say honestly, taking another deeper breath. 

''Hey,'' he calls again, turning me to face him, ''We're gonna be fine.''

''Are we? When does it end, Bellamy?'' 

He frowns. He doesn't have an answer. All he has are his hands holding my arms gently. All he can do is pull me into a hug the way he always did. But that won't make things okay, not truly.

''When does it all end?'' I ask again, ''Because it seems to me that we're going in circles. Never-fucking-ending. We're right back where we started, and I'm not talking about Lincoln.''

He knows that perfectly well himself. I know that he knows, but he also still wants to comfort me by some natural instinct of his, despite having no comforting answers to give me. His hand moves up to my neck, his thumb brushing over my jaw.

''We're doing the best we can,'' he says, looking right into my eyes, as though to convince me, ''We have no other choice. But do to the best we can, and hope that's enough. As always.''

''I can't go through another battle like that, Bellamy,'' I shake my head, suddenly at the verge of something akin to despair, though I know I won't cry - It has surprised me, my own words come out of my mouth unplanned, ''I can't. I don't want to, I can't-''

''Hey,'' he finally pulls me into that hug, his arms around me, my face in the crook of his neck, ''Shhh, hey,'' his hand goes through my hair, ''It might not even come to that.''

''But it might,'' I sau, allowing myself to be temporarily comforted by his touch and warmth and closeness and scent, ''And I can't watch you fight before a storm of fire again,'' I admit, ''I don't want to see flames ever again. Enough people have died-''

He pulls back only to cup my chin and lift my face just enough so I face him. ''We're gonna do the best we can to stop that from happening. We can do better this time around, right? No need to go in circles,'' he smiles.

''Right,'' I indulge him, ''But we can't leave either. Where would we go? We'd die on the way, and not to mention that I _would_ rather die than leave forty seven of our peole in that mountain to just-''

''We'll figure it out,'' he stops me from rambling, ''Jaha says we should pack our bags immediately but-''

''Wait, what?'' I shake my head like I must have heard it wrong, ''Jaha?!''

''Long story, I'll tell you about it later. My point is, Abby isn't backing him on it. No decision's been made. And we still have time to figure it out,'' he kisses the crease between my eyebrows, then my lips, ''And we are _not_ leaving our friends in that mountain.''

*

''He's convulsing,'' Clarke announces, though it's pretty clear by the way Lincoln's body shakes against the chains.

''So, what does it mean?''

''What happened to his leg?'' she asks.

''I shot him,'' Octavia replies.

''Clarke, he's lost a lot of blood,'' Bellamy warns.

''Can you shine the light on his neck?'' Clarke asks. I volunteer.

''Needle marks.''

''You think he's been drugged?''

''Maybe.''

''It sure as hell looks like withdrawal symptoms,'' I suggest, ''I've seen my share of those. Back on the Ark.''

A sudden blow sends me flying backwards. I trip on something, and I would have fallen on my butt if my back didn't hit the wall first. Someone has shouted Lincoln's name in the mean time, but for a short moment I am so disoriented I almost forget where I am. For a split-second, everything is black. When my vision comes back, it all looks like a dream. Because there's no way in hell Lincoln is loose and rampaging through the Drop-Ship, chains still on his hands. When he turns, they fly about. No one can near him really, let alone restrain him. That thought sinking in slowly is what makes me wake up from my daze.

Lincoln has made toward Clarke and pushed her back when I spot my bow and quiver lying not too far away from me. Carefully, I literally sneak to it. I nock an arrow and pull back to my ear, aiming right at him. I have a clear target now - as much as he's moving, the others are managing to escape him every time and pull back at a distance.  


We're here to help Lincoln, but I wouldn't let him hurt anyone either. This isn't a hard choice. He swings one of the chains at Bellamy when I take a long breath. _I might have to._

''Stop!'' Octavia shrieks, and I know she's screaming at me, ''Don't! Are you crazy?''

''Give me a better idea!''

Her shout seems to have snatched Lincoln's attention, because he's now back on her. She evades him, shouting at me again not to shoot. I look to Clarke. She looks back like she's torn between nodding at me and agreeing with Octavia. She looks like Lincoln has punched her hard enough to make her wanna sit down for three hours at least. Bellamy is too busy; he's pulled on one of Lincoln's chains and Lincoln has turned back toward him.

Bellamy makes one large step back, and my arm muscles almost sting, and my hand pulls just a milimeter further back, and my fingers feel just a little more loose, and I'm just a split moment away from letting the arrow fly. But then Octavia steps in - she must have said something too that I let slip in all that mess because I am too horrified about Bellamy handling that chain - and just as Lincoln is about to swing at him and I am about to shoot, Octavia knocks the man out. Lincoln topples down and onto the floor, once again. 

My arms relax. For the first time I can feel warm blood trickling down my right temple. The adrenaline is leaving my system, and the familiar shakiness is back in my limbs. I slide down against the wall and onto the floor. I try to take steady breaths.

''Everyone alright?'' Bellamy asks.

''Yeah,'' Clarke and I breathe at the same time.

''Let's get him back up there.''

I can't see a way out of this.


	38. Chapter 38

This time we tie up Lincoln so he's lying on the floor and is more approachable to Clarke. This time, Bellamy really makes sure he won't get loose and swing one at anyone anymore. My head is fine, just some bleeding under the impact of the metal around Lincoln's hands. It stops pretty soon, though I did clean it well just in case. We all have bigger things to worry about, and a scratch on my temple is frankly the last thing on my mind.

''We have to stop the bleeding and get the bullet out,'' Clarke explains, ''Hold his leg down.''

Lincoln growls at every movement, every way we try to even touch him. Octavia tries to give him some water to drink, but he just spills all of it, despite his dehydrated state. She looks beyond distressed, but she just says ''I'll get some more'' and leaves like this isn't taking that much of a toll on her at all. Has she always been this strong?

''O, once the drug is out of his system, he'll be ok,'' I hear Bellamy say to her.

''You can't protect me from this one, big brother.''

Bellamy is hurting, and there is nothing I can do now.

I watch Clarke work with deft and skillful hands. I always liked to watch her work - it made me learn and it kept me focused on the immediate problem instead of thinking about every single one we had. It has the same effect now. 

''Your mom would be proud,'' Bellamy tells her as she finally dresses Lincoln's leg wound. He's out cold now again, having fainted from the raw pain.

''My mom would know how to save him.''

When Octavia comes back, she doesn't come back alone. A Grounder stands behind her, and Bellamy has reached for a weapon before any of us can even blink.

''Bellamy, don't!'' Octavia steps up in front of him, ''He's Lincoln's friend and their healer!''

''He's seizing again,'' Clarke exclaims in complete despair. Lincoln is shaking violently, awake again, foam coming out of his mouth, and she has no idea what to do. Octavia panics. We all stand frozen. I stare at the Grounder, unsure. The newcomer just kneels next to his friend right away and reaches for a vial, trying to get some of the liquid inside Lincoln's mouth.

''What is that?'' Clarke asks suspiciously.

''Yu gonplei ste odon,'' the Grounder says to Lincoln. It rings all the bells. I must have heard that before somewhere, Rand has to have taught me this one. I know, I know, I know, but I can't recall in the moment, and yet for some reason I also know it's wrong, everything is wrong, it gives me a bad feeling, it doesn't mean anything good. 

''Wait!'' I say, uncertainly, afraid of my own self, because I could be trying to prevent this man from saving Lincoln's life. And yet some small voice inside of me still pushes on - wrong wrong wrong this is wrong.

''Clarke,'' I call, but I have no idea what I'm calling for. She looks back, with an expression that has to be mirroring mine. She seems to be putting it together, and then, just as the drop is about to fall into Lincoln's mouth, she catches it with the palm of her hand.

''No!'' she growls.

''Back off!'' Bellamy reacts immediately, pointing his rifle at the Grounder, ''Right now!''

''Yu gonplei ste odon,'' Clarke murmurs, the realization finally dawning on her, ''It's what they say before death!''

''Your fight is over,'' I nod, remembering, feeling stupid and angry and suddenly so helpless. I still have so much to learn. I still need to become so much better.

''He's not trying to heal him,'' Clarke says, ''He's trying to kill him.''

''Nyko? Is it true?'' Octavia asks.

''Yes,'' the man replies solemnly, ''Death is the only way.''

''Hold on, there could be a way to bring him back,'' Clarke argues.

''None that I've ever seen,'' Nyko replies.

''We have to go. The camp's leaving.''

So many things happen so quickly now, I can barely register it all. I didn't expected Finn to come, but there he is, having climbed up unannounced to warn us about the camp, and then there's Nyko turning on him trying to strangle the life out of him in less than a split second, calling him a murderer and everything else I can't even catch; then Bellamy has a gun trained at Nyko yelling at him to let Finn go, and then Octavia is screaming at Bellamy not to shoot at their only healer as she's standing right in front of the barrel. I turn to Clarke, like it's the only thing I can do, and she throws me a guard's baton without having to tell me anything - I know what I have to do. I catch it, step up, and buzz Nyko into a sleep.

I've never done that before. The feeling is weird, like there's something that remains in the tips of my fingers. We all share a moment of complete dumbfoundedness, and all I can do is stare at my right hand as it still tingles.

''Lincoln! He's not breathing!'' Octavia panics again.

Clarke kneels down immediately, checks Lincoln's pulse, then gets down to massaging his heart. Fear has risen all through me, and I instinctively clasp my fingers around Bellamy's forearm. There is nothing we can do but watch, and pray to whatever God is left.

For a really long moment there I think he's gone. My heart beats like mad in apprehension - I don't want Lincoln to die. I may have been ready to hurt him before to protect my own, but this man has done so much for us, and if not for that then only for Octavia - I really want Lincoln to live with all my heart. 

I hold my breath until he starts breathing again, I realize. When he comes back, I release it. We all seem to, collectively. Octavia smiles but looks like she's ready to cry. I think we all feel like hugging the life out of Clarke.

''I'm gonna go check on Finn,'' I say, but I think only Bellamy really hears me in all that, giving me a small nod. I need to check on my friend, but I also need some fresher air that the lower level provides. The air has become so close and stifling on the upper level, and it has little to do with the actual oxygen. Everything is too much.

I find Finn sitting alone in the lower level, seemingly deep in thought. He's shrouded in darkness as the light of the moon barely reaches into the corner where he sits.

''Hey,'' I say when I climb down, my feet touching the ground. He only looks toward me, then back at his feet.

''I was going to ask you if you're okay, but I know you're not,'' I say as I step up to him, ''Of course you're not, that's normal. But you're gonna be.''

''Some things stay with you,'' he says quietly, his voice sounding a bit broken.

''They do,'' I agree, ''And you learn to live with them. How's your throat?''

He scoffs, or maybe chuckles humorlessly under his breath, I can't tell. ''My throat is fine,'' he says, like I asked him the stupidest question in the universe.

''Good,'' I say, ''Clarke stabilized Lincoln for now. He's gonna be okay too.''

He shakes his head lightly - like he doesn't really believe that - the locks of his pretty hair dancing against his cheekbones. Finn did an awful thing, but he's still our Finn. He did an awful thing, and yet we all did plenty of those. And as awful as it was, if punishments are to be served he would have to wait in line. 

I can't justify what he did, but I can forgive it. Because this is our Finn. And he seems to be punishing himself constantly anyway, and though I know that isn't enough - that the families of those who died at his hands wouldn't ever in a million years deem it enough - damn it, he is our Finn. Broken, but still in there somewhere. The urge I feel to help him put himself together is overwhelming. But he needs to do that himself. 

''I miss you, Finn,'' I admit, half-surprising myself. It's the complete, most simple truth. He looks up to meet my eyes, maybe a bit surprised himself. I smile. He can't find it in him to smile back. That's okay.

He takes a short moment. Then he says: ''I miss myself.'' He's said it so quietly and timidly, it's as though he's ashamed to admit it.

''Come back then,'' I say, ''You can always come back. You're not too far gone. You're not _nearly_ too far gone.''

He's back to staring at his feet now. He isn't yet ready to talk this much, I know. 

''You can always come back,'' I repeat, placing a kiss on his cheek. I leave him with that. He looks like he needs to process it, to process a lot of things, and any moment more with me would be an intrusion. So I climb back up, an ache in my heart so bad it has me a bit surprised, in all truth.

On the upper level, not much has changed, except that Nyko is awake again.

''He was dead,'' he says, beyond confused, ''How did you do that?''

''You've tried bringing Reapers back before?'' Clarke asks him, ''And they died like this?''

Nyko nods. Suddenly, Clarke has that look in her eyes - that look she always has when she comes up with something, like something has just clicked in her mind. 

''What?'' I ask, ''Clarke.''

''I know how to stop the attack,'' she says.

*

Clarke only gives us the short of it before she hurries back to Camp Jaha with Finn. Apparently, she thinks curing Reapers in exchange for a peace with Grounders seems like a plausible deal. She really believes it could work, but I can't help the unsettling, uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I hope she's right, but I've seen too much to believe it would just go that smoothly. Not to mention we're not even sure it's possible to cure Reapers. Lincoln is stable for now, but we haven't cured him. The drug isn't out of his system yet, and once it does leave - will he survive? Clarke could go and bring back Dr. Abby, but I don't think even she would have the answer to that question.

I'm glad Finn and Clarke are talking to each other again. She seems to have made peace with everything and forgiven him. I really believe that's essential in Finn's recovery - if anything could bring him back to us and to his old self, it would be Clarke's extended hand.

Octavia does what she can - she washes Lincoln's skin and tends to his fever and tries to get some water in him all throughout the night. She doesn't rest. Neither Bellamy nor I try to ask her to rest either, we know better. All we can do is sit back against the wall and watch, our weapons close at hand. I don't think I've ever seen Bellamy so worried, as he watches his sister. The thought of Lincoln dying now must horrify him; he knows what that could do to Octavia.

I take his hand and interlace our fingers. He squeezes my hand just a bit, like he needs to hold on to something.

''Your sister is stronger than you think, Bell,'' I tell him quietly.

''She shouldn't have to be.''

Having protected her all her life, losing that option now has to have him paralyzed. His hands are tied like never before. And I can't help him.

I lay down my head on his shoulder, my thumb brushing over his knuckles. It seems to help just a bit - he sinks back against the wall just a tad more relaxed.

''Abby's gonna help him,'' I say, ''She doesn't stop until she does, always.''

He doesn't say anything to that, but we stay like that, fingers interlaced, my head on his shoulder, until I doze off.

I had no plans on sleeping, and I sure as hell do not remember the moment I blacked out, but it had to have been the exhaustion catching up with me. When I wake up, it's still the dead of night, but a couple of hours have to have passed. Octavia is passed out on the floor next to Lincoln, unable to sit upright any longer. It's no wonder. 

Bellamy's fingers are in my hair, massaging my scalp gently, and I realize he hasn't closed his eyes once all through the night. When I stir and open my eyes, he whispers for me to sleep some more.

''No, you should sleep a bit,'' I whisper back, placing a hand on his cheek, ''One of these days you're just gonna drop, Bell.''

''That would be a first,'' he offers a small smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

''Come on,'' I pat his cheek before I make to get up, ''I'm taking watch.''

He pulls me back by my wrist before I can move, and I flunk right back on my butt.

''No, you ain't.''

''Bell-''

''You're staying right here with me,'' he says, pulling me into him, my back to his chest, his arms around me, his face in my hair. I give in all too easily. When he holds me like that, time seems to stop. And there is no death or danger or heartbreak, there are no worries and desperate cries for our people and no sickness and no weapons needed close at hand. There is no tomorrow. And I need that break in time.

''The braids look good on you,'' he says, ''But don't go too Grounder on me.''

''I'm not even gonna reply to that joke,'' I snicker. He huffs in a weak laugh under his breath, placing a kiss in my hair.

''You should have gone back with them, your dad must be worried,'' he reminds.

''Finn will tell him I'm alright,'' I reply, ''I told you I'm not leaving you now.''

His arms around me tighten just a bit at that.

''This thing might actually work,'' he says after a while, ''Clarke's proposal.''

''Yeah, but if it doesn't...''

''We'll survive, as we always do,'' he finishes, ''And then we'll help our friends.''

''We still have zero plans for that, if this whole thing with Clarke fails,'' I remind him.

''I don't care. I'll find a way.''

''Bell, if it comes to a fight this time,'' I start, afraid of saying it out loud, ''You know they'll be smarter this time, right? Their host will be bigger. They'll be more prepared, after what we did the last time. All the back up we got from the Ark won't do shit-''

''We'll figure out something new-''

''It was last minute action that saved both our asses the last time, Bellamy. We've been lucky. I don't know how far that luck stretches,'' I admit, ''Should it come to a fight... Bell, I really don't have a good feeling.''

''Don't say that-''

''I'm serious. I don't know how I've survived everything so far, but I really don't think-''

''Hey,'' he cups my face and turns me around so I face him - he's frowning in worry and something akin to anger, ''You're not gonna die. And neither am I. Clarke's gonna do this. And if she doesn't, we'll figure it out. Okay?''

''Okay.''

''Don't lose the faith on me now.''

''I won't,'' I say, before I kiss his lips. He kisses back, and the electricity that buzzes all through my body has reached my very feet. Whatever this is between us is strong in its own, to me half-incomprehensible, way. 

I dare not name it.


	39. Chapter 39

Lincoln is looking progressively worse and I am getting more and more anxious just waiting and pacing around and watching Octavia try to care for him. Bellamy only _looks_ more calm, but in truth it must be unthinkably worse for him. Nyko just sits there in the corner and keeps silent - I think he thinks himself some sort of prisoner here with us. He isn't, but he's outnumbered and outgunned and probably deems silence and calm his best friends now.

It has to be noon or even past when Finn comes back with Abby.

''Finally,'' I sigh as I give a hand to Finn to climb up - Abby is already down on her knees checking up on Lincoln, ''Any news? Where's Clarke?''

''Trying to stop a war,'' he scowls, ''If this doesn't work, she won't be able to.''

''Then it has to work.''

''Pupils are unresponsive,'' Abby says, ''Tie off his arm! As tight as you can!''

Octavia ties Lincoln's arm hastily, Bellamy making sure it all stands firmly in place. I don't seem to know what to do with my hands; my legs feel like jello. My heart is suddenly too loud for my own thoughts. _This has to work. God please make it work._

''Thanks to the supplies your brother found, Lincoln might have a chance,'' Abby explains to Octavia, preparing a syringe. Lincoln looks so bad I just can't seem to believe her. And yet I still hope.

''What's that?''

''This will bring down his fever. Hold him down!''

Lincoln resists, it takes me and Finn too - pressing against him - to stop him from thrashing and squirming about. Abby manages to inject the thing, but then he goes into another seizing episode, only to come to the frightening calm at the end of it once more.

''What's happening? Why isn't it working?'' Octavia panics.

''His heart stopped,'' Abby says, pressing her palms against his chest, pushing, pumping, relentlessly, but he isn't coming back, I have hoped for nothing, my mind was right and my heart was wrong and Lincoln is gone and dead and so are all of us. 

''You're their healer?'' Abby turns to Nyko, ''Tilt his head back. Pull his chin down to open his airway.''

Time stretches. Minutes are ages. My face feels numb, like if someone touched me I wouldn't be able to feel a thing. I look at Bellamy. He looks back. Some voice in the back of my mind tries to whisper to me that I shouldn't be reacting like this now when he looks so broken and lost. I need to have it together, the muffled voice insists. But it's too much, the Grounders are coming, and I have just come back, I have just found my people again, and now the Grounders will come back again and kill so many of us and I have only had a couple of days with my dad, only a couple of nights with Bellamy.

''You're stopping,'' Octavia says, ''What's wrong?!''

''I'm sorry. He's gone.''

''No, it's not possible. You're wrong!'' she cries.

''Octavia,'' Bellamy practically begs, but Octavia presses against Lincoln's chest still crying ''Come back! Lincoln!''. Bellamy has a comforting, helpless hand on her back. She can't feel it. For the first time in a while, tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

Then the hatch is open, and Clarke steps in, Grounders in tow. She looks terrified now, coming to this, looking to her mother who has no help to offer her. Octavia is weeping her heart out now, Bellamy still kneeling next to her. I am still in a haze, still shocked, time still half in slow-motion. I am sloppy and unprepared, clumsy when the Grounders pull out their weapons. 

Everyone seems to react quickly enough though - because we're at a stand-off. The machete I'm facing from the Grounder whose face is hardly visible through that spiked mask is a little too close to my neck for comfort. I should have trained my arrow at him, and not at the dark-skinned woman, but I guess it's a normal reaction to _''I'll kill them all''_.

''Please,'' Clarke says, and the way her voice quivers I could swear she's doing her best not to cry, ''You don't have to do this.''

''You lied,'' the girl whom I finally identify as the Commander speaks, ''And you're out of time.'' 

Abby moves first, but before I can wonder what she's doing and why she's the first to attack anyone - she presses her baton against Lincoln's chest and shocks him. His body rises - it reacts - and it falls back. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I could laugh hysterically under so much desperate adrenaline. None of the weapons move though; my arms are frozen. If I move just an inch to the left, I'll be able to feel the tip of the machete against the skin of my neck. If I reacted suddenly in any way, I am sure my throat will be cut and I will die suffocating on my own blood.

''Do it again,'' Clarke says. 

No one moves. Everyone watches. The Grounders seem to be holding a collective breath, confused and fascinated at the same time. Abby shocks Lincoln again. His body rises, then falls, but this time, he draws a breath. Then he opens his eyes.

''Lincoln?''

''Octavia-''

The machete moves away from my neck.

*

Our walk back to camp seems like a dream, like it isn't really happening. Bellamy and Finn carry Lincoln, Octavia always right next to his head. Clarke has gone with Commander Lexa and her attendance to discuss the terms of the truce. Me and Abby walk shoulder to shoulder, both of us seemingly unable to speak. There is a lump in my throat that won't leave. It's all over now, we're saved, but it's sinking in too slowly for me. I feel tired - both physically and mentally. I need comfort more than rest, and I need to truly understand that we're safe now.

Once we're back, a couple of guards take over and help get Lincoln into medical. We leave Octavia there - she wouldn't have parted with him now even if we tried to drag her away with a rope. Bellamy holds my hand and won't leave it now. Then I see dad coming out of Engeneering, and I literally slam into him for a hug. It has been a long couple of days, and it's only now that I realize I won't lose him now, and he's there to stay. 

''You okay?'' he holds my face, scanning me over quickly as though trying to check me for any outward injuries. Usual parent procedure, I guess.

''Dad, I'm fine,'' I shrug it off, ''Anything happened here in the mean time?''

''You mean besides sitting here shaking in fear of the Grounders at our doorstep?'' dad smiles, ''No, not much.''

He turns to Bellamy now, face serious. Bell just stands there behind us a bit awkwardly. ''I suppose it was your idea to sneak away and single-handedly find a way into Mount Weather, my daughter in tow?''

''Sir, I- We had to-''

''That was reckless,'' dad argues, then gives a painful pause, ''... But brave. That kind of initiative is what we need more of around here,'' - I could swear Bellamy's face physically relaxes at that - ''We may not have that passage you tried to find, but luckily, Raven's found a way to catch their frequency. Now we can listen in on them.''

''Wait, what?''

''What?''

''She's still polishing it up. But it's one advantage we didn't have before.''

*

Clarke seems to be taking an eternity there in the Grounders' camp. What more could they be discussing now? What would possibly take them this long? Mount Weather plans already? I don't like Lexa one bit. She gives off a bad vibe, but I don't have to be a genius to understand it's a good thing that Lexa is the Commander and not someone else. I don't think many would be that flexible and that willing to form a truce in the first place.

I use the time to get some food in us; Bellamy has no appetite whatsoever but I make him eat nevertheless. Dad brings us all some drinks, then Raven joins us too and gives us her debrief. She's excited about the whole radio thing, eager to start something, some sort of mission. But now that the threat of the Grounders is gone, and the problem of Mount Weather immediate, it seems like a grey cloud pressing against my forehead. We can't catch a breath.

After lunch Bell goes to medical to check on Octavia and Lincoln and keep his sister some company. Dad has gone off with Wick, and Finn is nowhere to be seen, so I decide to go help Raven around at the workshop the moment I've washed myself. I can't just sleep all of this off just yet, and I enjoy Raven's company more than that of most.

''Oh, crap,'' Raven puts down one of her screwdrivers, ''I need you to do something for me.''

''What is it?''

''In the depository down the hall, there's a small metal locker in the left corner. In it there's a tool-case in the right upper shelf,'' she makes a weird face, like she hates asking this of me, ''I need those tools.''

''Wipe that frown, Raven; does it look like I got anything else to do?'' I laugh, making for the door, ''Might as well keep busy until Clarke comes to put me out of my misery.''

''Wait! The locker key.'' I catch it with the tips of my fingers, before twirling on the balls of my heels and striding down the hallway. 

I wouldn't have been surprised to find Murphy mopping the floors there, but I am surprised to find him in the next room down the eastern hall, violently scrubbing his hands in the washbasin. The sight has me oddly petrified; I could swear those hands would start bleeding if he doesn't stop soon, and he seems to be single-handedly draining the entire water supply of Camp Jaha as I watch. 

''What are you doing?''

He jump a bit, startled, having been completely unaware of my presence. It doesn't deter him for longer than a moment however - he continues the scrubbing like his life depends on it.

''You better leave.''

''Murphy, you're gonna scrub your damn skin off-''

''Why do you care,'' he says more than asks, still not even looking up.

''Let's just say I'm curious.''

He doesn't reply to that, and seems to be decided on not replying to anything further either, so I just strode up and turn off the water. He pauses, looks up at me, then shoves me away. My back bumped at the wall lightly - the washroom is entirely too small.

''I told you to leave,'' he growls, turning and walking away.

''Murphy! Stop!'' I catch up with him, grab his arm, turn him around. He takes a step back away from me, like I have the plague or something. That's weird.

''When I tell you to stay away from me, you stay away,'' he says, his voice calmer now. But this is worrying, because I've caught him washing his hands the way I wanted to wash mine after I killed that Grounder in the woods. That can't be good.

''Why were you doing that?'' I ask again, patiently - his hands are positively pink now, I realize. He stares me down, looking resigned now, showing no signs of wanting to speak at all.

''Just tell me,'' I say, hoping my voice sounds friendly, ''And I'll leave you alone.''

He coughs once, twice, three times, bringing his arm up on time to block it with his sleeve. He scowls.

''That's why,'' he says, giving me the answer when he didn't mean to.

''What do you mean?'' I ask, still not understanding what he's getting at and what's happening at all.

''Natasha, _I'm coughing_ ,'' he says, ''I might be sick. I'm staying away from everyone, but I'm trying not to spread it around in other ways, just in case.''

He used my full birth name again. Everyone always calls me Tasha, or even shorter - T; Natasha is only for either official business or serious stuff or when I'm in trouble. Even though Murphy and I are not what we once were, I still hate the sound of my full name rolling off his tongue. It's instinctive; it works like muscle memory. I seem to still associate it with my best friend being pissed at me.

But then it dawns on me. I understand what the hell is happening with him. And despite everything, it breaks my heart just a tiny bit. I hate that.

''Murphy, _you've caught a common cold_ ,'' I say, chuckling almost, ''What you need is some warm tea, not to scrub the skin off your palms-''

''I still don't see why you should care,'' he drawls, ''But either way, I don't want anyone to fall sick because of me so you better move.''

''Murphy, what happened with the Grounders is not gonna happen again,'' I shake my head, though I can't really understand why I argue, ''You're not a- a walking virus! This is ridiculous, you need to figure out what's going on in your head before it gets you, because we have enough problems as it is. You're coming with me!'' I walk on.

''Why should I?'' he drawls again, with that infamous smirk now, feet still planted.

''Because I need to get some tools to Raven, and then we're getting you some hot tea, and I'm gonna make sure it's scorching so it burns that big mouth of yours-''

''Tasha!!!'' I hear Raven shout.

She's running. Or at least the closest thing to it, as fast as she can. She's out of breath by the time she's caught up with us.

''It's Clarke.''


	40. Chapter 40

We run out to meet Clarke, Abby ahead of us, but at the sight of her back in camp everyone seems to gather around, eager to hear what she has to say. Clarke looks tired, but above anything she looks shocked. Whatever they've been discussing all day has to have taken a certain kind of toll on her. I don't like it, but if we're headed somewhere with the Grounders, then it's worth it. I look to Bellamy, who looks back with uncertainty that gnaws at me on the inside as we wait for Clarke to finally open her mouth and reply to Finn's question:

''What's wrong?''

''They want you,'' she says, almost breathlessly, ''If we want a truce, we have to give them Finn.''

''That's ridiculous,'' I scoff, not understanding at all that she's dead serious. The crowd around us starts buzzing with whispers immediately, word travels like electricity.

''What the hell are you talking about?'' Raven demands.

''That's their offer.''

''That's not an offer,'' she insists.

''It's punishment,'' Finn says, ''For what happened at the village. Blood for blood.''

''That's insane,'' Bellamy argues.

''Damn right it's insane,'' I agree, ''Are they serious?!''

''If we refuse?'' Abby asks.

''They attack.''

The whispers in the crowd escalate, to arguing, to shouting. _''I say we give him up!'' ''Get rid of him!'' ''Yeah!''_

''Easy, people!'' Byrne demands order, but this is suddenly so scary, suddenly my insides twist, because this is familiar, too familiar, and if anyone makes one wrong move Finn could end up with a metaphorical noose around his neck and a crate below his feet.

''Give him to the Grounders!'' someone steps up from the crowd - I can't even catch who it is before Raven shoves him.

''Back off!!!''

''Hey,'' I grab her arms, ''Calm down! Raven-''

''Listen to me,'' Clarke steps up to her, looks her in the eyes - I realize Raven is on the verge of a breakdown now, ''Nothing is going to happen to him. I promise. Okay?''

''I'm not dying for him!!'' someone else shouts, ''Spacewalker burned 3 months of oxygen from the Ark! He should've floated a long time ago! Throw him out!''

''Back off!!'' Raven goes off again, tearing away, but this time she punches the man in the face with more force than I thought she could muster. She's on him now, and then Byrne is on her trying to restrain her, but Raven punches her too, and it's all a big mess now, with two guards literally dragging her away.

This is really, _really_ bad. 

I turn around to look at Finn. He looks lost and terrified and guilty beyond what words could describe. Bellamy stands close at hand ready to defend him if things should go more wrong, but if we don't get out of this stew, they will, and pretty damn quickly. The crowd is raging now.

Dad is reading my mind, ''Get the boy out of here,'' he says.

*

''Mom gave the order,'' Clarke says to us, ''We've tightened the security. That's all we can do for now, until we figure something out.''

''Like what? Clarke, this isn't a solution,'' I practically beg, ''You need to get back out there and negotiate different terms!''

''Hey,'' Bellamy places a hand on my arm, ''Clarke's doing the best she can. We'll figure this out.''

''Well, that's not good enough!!!''

''We should go tell him,'' Clarke continues calmly, ignoring my lashing out, ''Then find a place, get him to safety.''

''You do that!,'' I tear away from Bellamy's grasp, ''I'm gonna try and figure this out.''

Angry with all Hell's fury, I walk away. If anyone would know a way, it would be Lincoln and Octavia.

''O,'' I quietly call from the doorway. The room is empty except for her and Lincoln, and Lincoln seems to be asleep. She turns around at the sound of my voice, then carefully steps out to meet me.

''How's he doing?''

''Better,'' she says, looking exhausted, ''Still restrained though, just in case.''

''That's good,'' I say, ''We need to talk to him about Finn.''

''T, there's nothing Lincoln could do-''

''No, but he might know a way, give us an idea. Something to offer instead of Finn-''

''You don't understand,'' she says, her eyes boring into mine, '' _This_ is most important to them. Revenge is more than just revenge to these people. It's their way of life, their tradition, all they stand for.''

''O, there has to be something else we can give them, we can't just let them kill Finn-''

''There _is_ nothing,'' she replies, ''Don't you get it? They could have asked anything of us. This one life taken is more important to them than anything.''

''How can you just say it like that?'' I barely whisper.

''Because it's the truth,'' she says, ''I don't want Finn to die. I know we can't just hand him over for the killing. But I know what these people are like, Tasha. I know what this means to them, and they're not easily to give it up.''

''Then whatever we think of has to be pretty damn good.''

''Like what?''

''I don't know!'' I throw my hands up, ''Service to them? A constant share of our supplies, our food?''

She shakes her head, ''We don't have anything they need. We already agreed on our medical help and technology. Finn killed eighteen people, and they want him to suffer eighteen deaths. You're gonna need to come up with something much better in exchange for that.''

''Eighteen deaths?'' I ask, though afraid of the answer, ''What does that mean?''

''It's gonna go slowly. Hands, eyes, tongue... I assume,'' she frowns, hugs herself instinctively, ''Everyone in grief will have a turn with the knife, that's what I know for sure. It's their way. Then the Commander will finish him, at sunrise,'' she takes a breath, ''He'd have to go through all that alive.''

The air feels too close around me. I know I'll faint if I stay a moment longer. I hear Octavia call my name once, but I am already rushing out. 

_Breathe. Breathe, God damn it._

*

''Hey, sweetie? Hey,'' I barely hear dad's voice, I barely feel his hands on my shoulders, ''Look at me. Honey? Look at me.''

I struggle to breathe. My hands are shaking. My mouth is dry, and I feel like if I don't actively focus on drawing breaths, my lungs will not continue on their own. I look up. Dad's eyes are full of worry and fear. I only barely recognize exactly where we are, on the edge of the camp, leaning against the wall. I do not remember running up to here.

''Drink,'' he brings a water bottle to my lips. My breathing is slowing down, so I manage to take a couple of gulps, though spilling some over me.

''Heyyy,'' dad calls again, ''Sit down. Come on.''

He gently pulls me down with him and onto the ground. It feels worse now that my legs feel useless. My breathing is slowly evening out, but my teeth still feel half numb half tingly, and I still feel light-headed. And then, like thunder out of nowhere, I start crying.

I think it startles us both when I break into tears, but dad's arms quickly go around me, which only makes it worse. Now I'm weeping violently, like I haven't in a while. In fact, I don't think I ever cried the way I do now. I am shaking, soaking up dad's shirt, but he just holds me, not saying anything, not letting go for who knows how long before I start calming down.

''Bellamy took him to the B corridor,'' he speaks gently after a while, still holding me, my face still buried in his shirt, ''We're ready to defend him, should it come to it. He's safe with us.''

''Dad,'' I sniffle, swallow another bout of tears, ''The things they'll do to him-''

''They won't,'' he pulls back to look me in the eye, I'm sure my eyes are so swollen now I look like a toad - they literally sting, ''We'll make sure of that,'' he adds, wiping away the remnants of my tears with a thumb. I nod, accepting his comfort.

''You're my life,'' he speaks again, ''You're all I've got. The most important thing to me is that you're okay. Now, your old man's not stupid, I know I can't protect you the way I'd like to, as much as I hate it. But I need to know that you're gonna be okay.''

I nod, wiping my face, ''Don't worry about me, dad,'' I sniffle despite myself - I'm having the post-crying hiccups, ''I'm gonna be fine. Nothing's gonna happen to me. We're gonna protect each other. No matter what happens.''

''Have another breather and drink some more water,'' he smiles, handing me the metal bottle again, ''Then we can start figuring this out.''

That night, I barely have an hour of sleep, riddled with nightmares.

*

''They're trying to scare us,'' Bellamy says.

I don't think that's the case. They don't have to scare us. This is them demanding what they want. Hundreds of Grounders still surround our camp, all chanting that blood must have blood. _Jus drein jus daun_ , the words boom through the morning calm. It makes my skin crawl.

I clutch the rifle Byrne has given me. I don't think I've held one since the M16 back when we defended the old camp. I've grown so used to my bow by now, but I still hold that gun like it's my only lifeline. It makes me feel braver, just holding it, and reminds me I used to be a gunner for a reason. Then I think of Miller, and all my insides twist yet again.

I watch Abby walk up to the gate to meet the two Grounder riders. She's told them what she had before they ride away, and their ominous horns sound through the air. We're not giving Finn up. We'd fight again if that's what it comes to. That option sure as hell has me more at peace with myself. I'd never again be able to sleep at night if the decision had been different.

But now the real horror will start.

''Watch the woods!'' Bellamy shouts, ''Watch for movement!''

Everyone takes positions. Lifting the rifle, I look through the scope, scanning the treeline.

What none of us expect to see is Marcus Kane walking out of the woods, his hands up in the air.

''Can't be out in the open,'' Bellamy warns once he's back inside the gate, ''We need to get somewhere safe.''

''It's safe for the moment,'' Kane says, ''Come on. We need to talk. I managed to buy us a bit of time.''

*

Bellamy, Raven and I impatiently wait in front of the Council room, eager to hear what the hell is going on. They're taking too damn long, whatever it is that Kane had of news to share, and after a while the guards bring Jaha in too, and then I know it's serious. Again.

''What the hell's taking them so long?'' Raven voices our frustrations, pacing about like mad.

''Abby already told the riders we're not giving Finn up,'' I say, though nervous despite my tries to pacify the situation, ''Relax.''

The door swooshes open.

''What's happening?!'' Raven demands of Abby as we rush to catch up.

''You were in there a long time,'' Bellamy says.

''There was a lot to talk about,'' Abby replies, not stopping.

''Wait! Abby!'' I grab her arm to stop her, ''We deserve to know.''

''There was a lot to talk about!'' she insists.

''Hey,'' Bellamy steps up in front of her, ''We are _not_ turning him over to the Grounders.''

''Step aside, now.''

''Abby,'' I start, my voice barely audible now with fear consuming me again. - We'd decided! Why is she acting like this? We had decided, we've told them, it's over and done! What is happening?!

Bellamy takes a small step back.

''We're all trying to find a way out of this,'' Abby says before walking away. She probably meant for it to be re-assuring, but suddenly I am more terrified than ever.

Raven, Bellamy and I remain standing frozen for a moment. Then Bellamy says:

''They're gonna give him up.''

Back to Hell number one.


	41. Chapter 41

''Hey! Hey! Where the hell do you think you're going?!''

''Step aside, girl,'' the man tells me, trying to shove me out of the way with the back of his hand like I barely weigh ten pounds. I don't know his name, but I've seen him around - I recognize that round face with the mustache. With one turn of the shoulder, I embellish the face with fresh blood, my fist meeting his nose. He staggers back. My knuckles hurt, but it feels so good.

In truth, Finn has already run away. My task here is to make sure the people find out as late as possible. I've been holding them off for about an hour now, but more and more demand to get into the B corridor, some saying it's their right as citizens, even resorting to the freedom of movement crap. When the real mess starts and the fighting breaks out, the guards swoop in, breaking it up, and the only reason I'm not arrested is because they would have had to arrest everyone involved, and that's just impossible and too much of a hassle in the middle of everything. I get roughed up and chased out like the rest of the folks, but that's it. That's game over, though, but it had to have bought us a bit more time at least.

The plan worked well enough, now it's time for part two.

I make my way across the camp and into Bellamy's tent. I gear up, deciding to leave the bow this time, sheathing the machete. Making sure no one's watching me, I casually make my way behind the Ark, where the wall almost meets the fence. As expected, Murphy is already there.

''Took you long enough,'' he says, throwing me the rifle.

''I bought them more time,'' I grumble, catching it, ''The walkie.''

He hands me the walkie-talkie, ''Wick,'' I call, ''Wick!''

 _''I'm here, geez!''_ he grumbles through the radio, _''Just a minute.''_

''Come on, man.''

_''Tasha, I'm headed to Engeneering trying not to look like I'm staging a mutiny here. Hold on a minute.''_

I roll my eyes. Murphy gives me a look of half amusement half confusion. ''He's a drama queen,'' I explain.

 _''I heard that,''_ Wick says, _''Okay, just a secooooond... and done.''_

''Thank God,'' I say, ducking under the now cool fence.

 _''You're welcome!''_ I hear him say, before I shut the radio down.

*

It was Raven's idea that Murphy and I come too; I agreed that we could use more guns and there was no way in hell I was letting them do this thing without me anyway. We trek in silence for a while, Murphy and I - not because it's awkward but because we're careful not to stand out and make too much sound. Worse than being seen by our people would be being seen by the Grounders - they can't know we're ushering Finn into hiding.

''Your cough is almost gone,'' I realize after a while, as we make our way through the growth.

''Or maybe I'm just holding it in,'' he smart-asses to hide the bashfulness I could see on his face from a mile. I don't push the uncomfortable subject - it's no wonder the whole virus thing has left a mental scar, especially after his whole history with sickness and everything he associated it with. I hope he won't really develop some weird compulsive behavior further on because of it, and then I realize I shouldn't fucking care.

But that's the thing - I am too traumatized myself and too terrified and tired to hold on to anything anymore. There is no room left for the anger and the hatred. So much has happened in a few days alone that I just can't see far past it. And maybe I don't trust Murphy, and maybe I can't get over some things that he's done, but my indifference is on such solid ground you might have mistaken it for forgiveness. And maybe it could turn into forgiveness one day. If Bellamy could, and Raven could, why couldn't I?

Ah, but I know the answer to that question. I know why it's harder for me. But everything that happened back on the Ark - that's the easiest part. I may not have said it or really thought to myself before now, but what happened on the Ark was forgiven long ago. The Ark seems like a different life now, a different lifetime. We were all born again on the Ground - we had died, and then we were born again. I hardly remember the past life anymore, so whatever happened then hardly even matters. Everything that happened to Natasha Parish back on the Ark had happened to a different girl. I carry the remnants of her scars, but wear a different skin all the same.

''You know, Finn's not a bad guy,'' Murphy drawls, breaking the silence again, ''One of the very few I can say that about, really.''

''I know.''

''We'll hole up until this dies down,'' he says, ''And if it doesn't, we'll kick their asses like we did the last time. We're not giving him up.''

''We? If I remember correctly, and I think I do, you wasted most of our gunpowder and blasted. And you don't need to comfort me.''

He feels bad about that. Murphy rarely shows when he feels bad, so when he does show it, you know it's real. He makes a face like he's stepped on a rusty nail. 

''You feel bad, huh?'' I taunt, ''That's because you should,'' I say as I cut away some of the growth ahead of us. We need to make our own route to the Drop-Ship. It would take us longer probably, but better safe than sorry. We've split into three couples, going down three different routes, and if the Grounders notice something, this way at least we won't exactly be sitting ducks. And we can't be out in the open. 

Murphy doesn't reply to that statement of mine, to my mild surprise - Murphy rarely passes up on bickering. And the fact that he did now angers me. I need him to talk back. I need him to say he was wrong, and that he's fucked up, and that he's sorry. I want to hear something I basically know I'll never hear. I need something definite, some closure on the whole mess before the Ark came down, something to make it easier for me to deal with the fact that he's back, just like that, and everyone is easing him back in like nothing's happened. When _so much_ has happened.

But if Bellamy could, and Raven could - so could I.

''Fucking say something,'' I hiss.

''What do you want me to say, Tasha?'' he asks, his voice sounding almost disinterested, almost a statement more than a question. I push through the bushes angrily.

''Admit, for _once_ , that you fucked up. Just say it. You fucked up and you feel like shit.''

''You got it all wrong, sweetheart,'' I hear him behind me, ''Whether I fucked up or not, I'm not apologizing to anyone about anything. I don't exactly recall anyone apologizing to me.''

''Bellamy did.''

''A dying man would say anything to save himself.''

I turn around on the balls of my heels so swiftly, Murphy almost slams right into me, chest to chest. His eyes fall on the machete in my hand for just a split-second. And that one split-second just pisses me off even more. He has a rifle ready in his hands anyway.

''Bellamy _was_ sorry. He _still is_ ,'' I growl, ''And he forgave you, because he knew you'd forgiven him the day you saved his life.''

Murphy stares me down, unmoving, not breaking eye-contact, but he doesn't have his fighting face on. I realize, as it dawns on me, that he simply looks lost. I know he wants to say something - it's in his nature to _always_ say something - but it's as though he doesn't know what. And that happened _never._

''Bellamy forgave you. And I know you forgave him,'' I continue against his silence, ''And I honestly don't know anymore if either of you deserves it. But it's fucking liberating, isn't it?''

''So why do you want me to say it so bad?'' he asks.

''Because _I_ want to forgive you! Bellamy forgave you, but I can't unless you tell me,'' I shake my head, ''I can't.''

Why do I feel like crying?

''You want me to say I feel like shit, is that it?''

''I _need you_ to say you feel like shit! Because if you feel like shit, John, that means you're not a shit fucking person!''

''No, what's really cute about this whole thing is that _apparently_ I'm the only one that needs to be forgiven,'' he argues, ''And _everyone else_ apparently has their hands perfectly fucking clean!''

''No one's saying that! I _know_ what I've done. I stand by my shit. When I fuck up I say that I've fucked up. I say that I'm sorry.''

''Sorry for what?'' he grabs my arm and stops me once I continue walking, ''No, let's do this now, sorry for what?!''

''I'm _sorry_ I turned my back on you! Okay? I'm sorry. You pushed me away, and you were angry and mean and it hurt but I knew what it was and what it meant and I should have stayed.''

He takes a moment, staring me down, anger on his face but no trace of it in his eyes. He swallows and licks his lips. It fascinates me how I can still see through him. He isn't angry; he's trying to keep the composure intact. I've hit a nerve. 

And I've hit a nerve of my own as well.

''You're not the only one in the wrong,'' I add, swallowing, ''I left you when you needed me. I was all you had left. And I knew that, and I still walked away.''

''Don't,'' he steps back, ''Just don't.''

''What?''

'' _Say another damn word_ ,'' he hisses, ''You don't get to be the one to apologize after everything I did. You said it yourself. _I_ pushed you away. _I_ was fucking mean. I don't deserve the fucking apology, so don't play that bigger person trick on me. I know who I am. I know who's the one that should be apologizing, and I'm not about to start.''

''You don't have to,'' I shake my head, ''About everything back on the Ark? You don't have to. I don't even care anymore about any of all that, water under the fucking bridge - but don't you get it? You could never have hurt me worse than you did when you hurt _him_!''

He takes a moment, then lets his head hang down, chuckling spitefully. ''Bellamy. Of course. You know, Tasha, I don't exactly remember you having troubles forgiving _him_ for what he did to me.''

''Ya think?! Think again!'' - I'm pissed - ''I could hardly _look at him_! Even when I realized he didn't do it by his choice. You, John - you did it willingly.''

''Because killing people is just something I do piece o' cake,'' he shrugs, but his eyes glisten, ''Because I don't have my own reasons. Because I have nothing to be angry and vengeful about.''

''I'm not saying that,'' I say, then continue walking, in another moment hearing his footsteps follow.

''Yeah, well, I don't need your forgiveness, but that doesn't matter, does it? It's all about _you_. It's you that needs to forgive, to get that burden off your back. All about you.''

''Call me naive and sentimental,'' I grumble, cutting away, ''Trying to fix at least one clusterfuck.''

''Don't bother,'' he drawls, ''There's some gaps you can't bridge.''

We hike the rest of the way in silence, a new kind of ache crushing my chest.


	42. Chapter 42

''Ooh, hey, hey, hey!'' Murphy lifts his hands up in surrender the moment we step into the Drop-Ship. I follow.

''It's just us!''

''Murphy,'' Bellamy frowns at the realization, lowering his gun, ''What's he doing here?'' 

''I believe I was invited.''

''We could use extra guns,'' I say, ''Raven's idea.'' 

Bellamy looks to Raven, she shrugs, and he nods with an accepting ''Might be a good idea.''

''Finn should've been right behind you,'' Raven frowns in worry. 

''Don't worry. The spacewalker's gonna be fine,'' says Murphy.

''Where _are_ they?'' I ask.

''I keep checking,'' she shakes her head, hugging her arms, anxious, as Bellamy lets a hand ghost over and around my shoulders for one gentle squeeze of my upper arm, ''Still no sign of them.''

''They're probably just making sure they're not being tailed,'' I say, trying not to let my mind go scary places, ''You know, staying safe.''

''Any trouble with you two?'' Bellamy asks.

''No. No Grounders west of the camp,'' I shake my head.

''And back at camp?''

''I don't think they know yet,'' replies Murphy.

''I managed to buy us a bit more time,'' I explain.

*

It's hard to tell how long we've already been waiting - time has a way of stretching when you sit and wait in fear. Murphy is the only one seemingly calm, whereas Raven can't stop pacing around, her limp almost unnoticeable now with all that fright and adrenaline. Bellamy parades near the entrance, peeking out every now and then to check. I try to sit still and hug my knees to calm myself, but can't help getting up on my feet every other moment to get most of the feeling back into my feet. I am too antsy to sit still and too afraid to relax.

And then they come, Finn carrying an unconscious Clarke in his arms.

''What happened?'' Bellamy and I jump at the same time. There is blood on her head!

''A Grounder,'' Finn explains, breathing heavily, ''Hit her on the head.''

''Here, put her here,'' Murphy urges, quickly pulling over some old tent canvas for her to lie on. We help lower her down gently - she doesn't seem to bleed too heavily, but it's still an open gash that needs to be cleaned.

''I need a bandage, a rag, anything!'' Bellamy demands. It's Murphy again that's come up with something first, pulling out a piece of cloth - ''Got it! Here.''

''Hold her head.''

Murphy obeys, putting his hands gently below Clarke's head, keeping her wound protected. It's kind of a mesmerizing sight - Murphy caring for someone. Vaguely familiar, like a fading memory.

''Clarke, can you hear me?'' Bellamy calls out to her.

I kneel right next to her, moving Bellamy just a bit out of the way. Murphy still holds her gently as I pull out my water bottle, splash some water on my hand and bring it to Clarke's forehead and neck. She stirs a bit.

''Clarke,'' Bell calls again, ''You're gonna be fine. You just need to rest.''

I bring some water to her lips, careful not to pour too much and make her cough it up - she seems to be half-asleep now. 

I turn around to look at Finn. His entire body is shaking. Even after worse things that have happened, I've never seen him quite like this. And whatever Raven has told him makes him storm right out. She can't help but follow - he doesn't look fit to be alone.

*

Raven must have managed to calm Finn down, because they are back after a while, and Finn looks back to his senses. She takes over in tending to Clarke so I can step out and join the guys for the watch-out. Finn is checking on Clarke just about every other minute hoping she'll wake up. When Raven comes out to join us, we know Clarke is back.

''Let's just give them a moment,'' she grins. I nod with a smile, my eye back through the rifle's scope, back to scanning the woods.

Bellamy and Murphy had brought out some fallen logs earlier to use as cover - they won't serve well as shields seeing as arrows could probably penetrate the hollow parts, but at least we can duck behind and try and remain unseen, should it come to it. They serve us well for now.

The Grounders know Finn is on the run now, there is no doubt about it. And they had to have figured out where he would go by now too. It's just a matter of time, and my insides are twisting in anxiety again. Waiting is always the worst. We're all crouching in position, guns ready. It won't be too long now. It can't be.

And then I see it - black silhouettes out in the distance, skulking through the trees and bushes. My blood freezes, and all I can say is a breathy _''Bell-''_

He's seen it too - of course he has, ''We got company!'' he shouts, ''Get out here!''

Finn and Clarke run out to join us, guns in hands, ducking in their position.

''Get down,'' Bellamy warns, as though we need the warning, ''Grounders.''

''We're surrounded,'' Clarke quickly realizes.

Surrounded is the word. East to west, I scan the treeline. My breath gets caught in my throat at the realization of the big picture. We may have guns, but we don't have infinite ammo. And by their numbers around us, we'd need a whole lot. And that whole lot would make for an act of war, and no one at camp would be safe for a single moment longer, no warning.

Choose wisely.

*

''They're not attacking,'' I realize after a while.

''Testing the ground,'' Bellamy suggests.

''Or giving us another chance,'' Murphy drawls.

We can hardly see anyone anymore. If there is one thing the Grounders are good at, it's camouflage. I remember everything Rand has taught me. You have to know when stealth is your best friend.

''We need to get back inside,'' announces Bellamy.

*

Every now and then you can see a Grounder in the distance, visible for only a moment and then gone back into hiding. We need a good plan, and until one is formed all we can do is take peeks from behind the Drop-Ship curtain to make sure none of the Grounders are coming closer. None of us want to end up dead after being snuck up on.

''They're not moving any closer,'' Murphy confirms after another check. 

''Staying out of range,'' Bellamy explains, ''Probably waiting until it's dark.''

''If we hit them now, at least we'd take them by surprise,'' Murphy argues.

''Hit them now? If we just _hit them now_ , no one back at camp is safe,'' I say, ''We gotta think our way through this one.''

''Besides, we don't even know how many of them are out there,'' Clarke shakes her head.

''I'm not hearing any better ideas, y'all,'' Murphy states. 

''We'll give them something,'' says Raven.

''All they want is Finn,'' explains Bellamy again.

''Finn wasn't the only one at the village.''

''What are you talking about?'' Clarke asks her. 

''Raven, hold on,'' Bellamy defends, and then it dawns on me, too slow.

''You can't be serious,'' I scoff.

''Whoa, whoa, whoa; Raven, I came here to protect him!'' Murphy argues, ''You were the one who wanted me to come! You-,'' - he pauses a moment only to realize, then gives a smile of spite and disappointment, nodding, ''That's why you asked me to come along.''

''No, no, no, that wasn't the plan!'' I say, because she had told _me_ , she had invited _us_ to come together as back-up; what the hell is she on about now?!

''Enough Grounders saw him at the village, they'd believe he was the shooter,'' she says, determined, and I hear Murphy mutter something like ''Sick bitch''. I barely catch it as red fury takes over me.

''You need to _back the fuck off_ ,'' I growl, voice low and level and as threatening as I ever sounded.

''Raven, you don't mean this,'' Clarke begs.

''You know what they do to people!'' Bellamy argues.

''They want a murderer, we'll give them one,'' Raven says, and then she cocks a gun at Murphy, ''Drop your gun.''

Murphy steps up toward her, completely resigned, staring down that gun barrel like it's nothing. ''Go to hell, Raven.''

''We're not pointing guns at each other,'' I say, but propping my own up at Raven, ''But you're not giving me a choice right now. Put it down.''

She doesn't even blink let alone look away from Murphy or move the gun.

I can't shoot Raven, not really. The instinctive thing to do would be to shoot at a limb to disable the shooter and save the victim, but she already has one limb disabled, and that's courtesy of Murphy no less. What the fuck are we doing?!? She wouldn't kill him either, the Grounders want the murderer alive. But would they refuse a dead 'culprit'? I can't think, I can hardly keep my heartbeat steady and my hands still. Raven isn't doing this. _I_ am not doing this.

''Put it down, Raven,'' Clarke begs, ''Put it down, both of you.'' 

''Her first,'' I say.

''Like it or not, he's one of us!'' Clarke turns to Raven, eyes wide. I don't want any of this. How did we come to this? 

''Please,'' Bellamy speaks to me quietly, close to my ear, maybe afraid to take the gun away from me too hastily, I don't know, but I know that I can't, not until she lowers her gun first - I can't.

''Her first!'' I shout this time.

But Raven stands unwavering still. 

''I said... _drop it_ ,'' she growls at Murphy again, and just as she's about to let the barrel of her gun meet Murphy's neck, and I'm about to get ready to do something stupid, Finn steps in and takes hold of her rifle shouting ''Stop! Stop!''

The next thing I know is Bellamy's hands over mine and my rifle then in his hands and my hands feeling cold and half-numb and my breathing too heavy. I could have cried again if my mind wasn't on survival mode right now. I sure as hell feel like crying.

 _I have just aimed my gun at Raven._ At _Raven_. I've always been the responsible one around, the one that always made sure to keep an eye on any loose cannon. Am I becoming one?

''We're not doing this,'' Finn says, ''They've got us surrounded. The only thing we can do is stay. And defend this place.''

''I'm with you,'' says Bellamy, and we all give a nod of agreement in turn.

''Murphy?''

''Yeah,'' he says, but I could swear my life on it - he's ready to cry too. Murphy is on the verge of tears. That whole thing had to have stung, and I feel ready to burst, but I didn't expect to see his eyes glisten. 

''Go upstairs. Watch the rear,'' Finn orders, ''I'll take the lower level. You four, take the front gate. That's the plan. Alright?''

Nodding in agreement again, Murphy climbs up first. I look to Bellamy. He looks half-angry half-worried about me. I don't know which half I hate more. He takes a moment, like he's contemplating whether to give me the gun back or not, but of course he has to. Or maybe that moment is all in my head, but it fucking pisses me off. I'm not just going to shoot up the damn place! And I wasn't the one that pulled the gun out first either! Why is he looking at me like I am the loose cannon?! 

His eyes soften when he hands me the rifle, his hand lingering on it a moment longer. Whatever he tried to communicate, there is no need for it. I take the damn thing and step out, ducking swiftly behind the log on the eastern side of what once was our camp.

I do what I have to.

*

We're in position, but I can't see any Grounders at all now, not even as silhouettes in the distance. That's worrying.

''You see anything?'' 

''No.''

''I don't like this,'' I voice my thoughts, but ignoring the nervousness in my stomach.

And then, in just another moment...

''There!''

I aim before I realize what I'm aiming at.

Finn Collins stands outside the remnants of our walls, hands in the air. Clarke has to have said something, shouted something, then someone else shouts too, but I can't hear it, I can't hear anything, I can't _breathe._

Finn just stands there, terrified, and in another moment hands are on him, and Grounders have taken him away.


	43. Chapter 43

I don't even remember the walk back to camp. I don't remember anything in between Finn's leaving and the awful wait inside our gates. I don't remember who I talked to or what I said or how the hell I'd even gotten there. It's in the middle of the damn night, and I never realized the time passing by, I can't remember the sun coming down.

I remember dad telling me I'm in shock, that I need to take it easy. He tried to stop me from watching everything, like that was an option. I remember I told him something in what was supposed to be anger, at the fact that he already believed that Finn was gone, that it's over. It can't be over.

This isn't real either - the wait. It hardly seems real. Everything seems a haze, a bad dream - the sight of the Grounders preparing for the execution, the sounds of them and the people around me, the glimmering of the fires, Raven's hysteria and Bellamy's stoic demeanor, my hands and the ground below me, everything. None of this is real. I feel feather-light, like I could float away with the wind, or faint any moment given. I need to hold onto something, but if I do it will mean admittance, and I'm not ready to admit Finn is gone.

We'd sent Clarke off to try and negotiate something for one last time, Raven slipping her a knife so Clarke could kill the heda if necessary, but even I knew in that moment of shock that Clarke wouldn't be that stupid, no matter what Raven said. Killing the heda would mean Clarke's own life, and the lives of all of us back at camp, and Finn still wouldn't be saved. But she took it anyway, slipping it under her sleeve. I think she just didn't want to go against Raven's desperation. Clarke was logic embodied, she would do this her way or she wouldn't do this at all. All of our hopes are on her and her knack for diplomacy. It's now or never.

And so we wait and watch, as it was all we can do. One moment I am watching Clarke talk to Lexa, the next moment they're bringing Finn out, tying him to the wooden post, and I regain all my senses like thunder hits me. Suddenly, everything is real, and I'm feeling everything - the fear, the pain, the sickness in my stomach. It's too much all at once, and with every long moment that passes it's becoming more unbearable. Clarke couldn't have talked to Lexa for longer than a few minutes, but every minute stretches for an age, torturing us. There is nothing in my mind but two words: ''Please, Clarke.''

_Please, Clarke. Please, Clarke. Please, Clarke. Please, Clarke. Please, Clarke._

_Please, God._

And then the conversation is over, and Clarke is walking toward the wooden post, toward Finn, and my entire body screams, half of my mind chanting that this is it - she did it, Lexa is merciful, Lexa is letting Finn go, Clarke is gonna cut him free. Half of my mind is chanting it, but the other half knows damn well this is false hope, even though I don't want to listen to it. Not in this moment.

''What is she doing?'' I hear Raven ask. Bellamy stands in between us as we watch, and I don't know if it's because he thought one of us is going to lash out on the other or something. I can't think at all. All I can do is watch and try to breathe.

Clarke and Finn look like they're kissing. Why are they kissing?!

''No,'' I hear myself say, but it's too quiet and my voice sounds too foreign.

She isn't cutting him free. She wasn't going to do it at all and yet some foolish voice inside of me still hopes things will change like by a magic trick. But they are hugging now. I know this for what it is - I know this is them saying their goodbyes. And yet I still can't admit it, I still hold on to something, still try to breathe.

And when Clarke pulls back from the hug, Finn's head hangs low. It isn't sinking in even when I see blood all over his body, not even when I see the knife glimmer in Clarke's hand. It only sinks in when Raven cries out like a banshee, it only becomes real when she collapses and Bellamy has to hold her, to keep her together.

Finn is dead.

Tears drip down my face by themselves, but I'm not exactly crying, I am too stunned for that. This is some sort of weird physical reaction, because I am struggling to breathe, as slowly and deep as I inhale, and my teeth feel numb and my fingertips tingly and my legs too weak to stand. 

Finn is dead.

Every single small memory I have with Finn seems to come back to mind in one small split of a moment. It isn't even anything worth remembering the way you'd expect it to - it's just the smallest bits and pieces of every-day bullshit you don't even think about twice. I remember that random day we talked about food and the way I couldn't tell apart by taste the different types of meat at all and the way he laughed at the ridiculousness of it, like it was the weirdest thing in the world. I remember one of the many times he threw me his jacket when I needed to make a quick short run outside, and that time I pulled down his beanie over his eyes and he pretended to slam into a tree to make Clarke chuckle. I remember every time I was harsh to him, even though he never took it to heart. I remember that time he took over Miller's shift even though he wasn't a gunner and detested the sight of a weapon, but he took the gun anyway just because he knew Nathan would drop dead if he didn't catch any sleep soon. 

And then I'm crying. Really crying.

Someone's hand slips in mine, and our fingers interlace. I turn my head left to see who it is, through blurry vision. John Murphy looks back, tears in his eyes but none leaving the lids, the creases between his eyebrows the only thing ruining the complete composure of his face. I squeeze his hand tighter, his own doing the same. And when the next bout of violent sobbing ensues, his hand leaves mine and his arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me in, and I let him. 

I cling to him like it's the only safe place in the universe. I feel little again, small and frightened and lost and I just want to go home and his arms are the only home I have left. His shirt crumpled in my fists and my tears soaking his neck and shoulder, he holds me as my body shakes, he hums something familiar to try and calm me. And I let him, because I need him.

*

They've taken Finn's body down, but I can't go see him again. Raven ran off immediately, but there is no way in hell I could see him again, I don't think I'll be able to take it. In the mean time, at some point, Murphy's taken me to my dad instead, and dad has sat me down in front of a tent where he let me cry more, holding me himself. And I cry into a different shoulder, but it's the same face I see smiling behind my closed eye-lids. He's dead. He's gone and he isn't coming back and it's awful but it's done and I need to accept it. Gone gone gone, Finn has died just as he's killed. But all I see is a smiling face.

I don't know how much time exactly I've given myself to weep and be weak - maybe an hour - but when I decide it's enough and I need to pull myself together, Raven is still out there. Abby and Kane joined Clarke to talk about the truce and Mount Weather plans, without any time to grieve, and if this is happening, I need to have it together.

''This can take place without you,'' dad insists, his hand lingering around my wrist.

I swallow one last time to put myself back together, pulling myself away. ''I need to be present, at all times. We owe him that.''

He wears a worried frown on his face, but he kisses my forehead nevertheless and follows me back toward the gate. I need to find Bellamy.

*

I almost break down again when Bellamy kisses me and hugs me, but I resist, hold myself together.

''Clarke did what she had to,'' he says, his face still in my hair.

''I know,'' I nod, sniffling, ''I know.''

We stay like that a while, just holding each other and breathing. Until I remember:

''Where's Raven?''

''She lashed out on Clarke, took off. They're taking Finn's body to Tondc, to be burned there-''

''What?'' I pull back, ''When?''

''We're leaving any moment now.''

''I'm coming too!''

''Maybe you should stay back,'' he says softly, hand on my cheek, ''Rest, until we see this thing through.''

''Bell, I have to be there,'' I say, trying not to let my voice shake, ''He was my friend, I should be there.''

He only frowns and gives a small nod, before pulling me back into him.

*

''Dad, I have to,'' I say, gearing up, ''If you wanna come with, you can. But I think you're most helpful around here. Weren't you and Wick working on something?''

''Natasha, listen to me,'' he suddenly grabs my arm, and I have to turn around and face him, ''First you were in shock, bordering on catatonic. Then you saw your friend die and had a breakdown. You haven't eaten or slept properly in a while now, and you haven't given yourself any time to process any of the trauma. You need to rest, and you need to _grieve_.''

''I can't rest!'' I cry out, tears welling up again, ''And I _am_ grieving! And if they're going to burn Finn's body, I need to be there! He was my friend, and I failed to protect him, so the least I can do is be there for his God damn funeral!''

''This isn't your fault,'' dad says, more softly now, placing a gentle hand on my cheek, ''And you know that it isn't. There was nothing you could have done differently, no way in which you could have changed things.''

''Well, at least I'll get to go and say goodbye.''

''He's already gone,'' he shakes his head, ''You can't say goodbye in Tondc any more than you can say goodbye here in this tent.''

''I need to do _something_.''

''Sleep, for a start. Eat. Help me and Wick with the radios until our friends come back with Raven. Train. Prepare for what's coming. You won't be sitting still,'' he says, ''But you'll be useless to your friends in the state that you are now.''

He's right, but that's not the only reason I decide to stay. Another one is that in that moment it hits me and I realize I'm being selfish - my father has a daughter who is not okay by a long shot and he can't do absolutely anything about it with his hands tied. And I never thought about him at all or what he's going through just watching me like this. Or how to make it easier for him. 

The final, most powerful reason is simple enough - I don't want to face it. In all truth, I don't want to watch Finn's body burn, or travel two days just to be among people who were going to make him die in unthinkable agony. I just can't face it yet. I would, I will, but not yet.

Now I have to tell Bellamy I'm not going and to keep an eye out on Raven because I hardly want to face her myself and to make sure they stay sharp because this alliance could break as easily as water flows and I could take anything except Finn dying for nothing.

That night as I lie in bed, something opens inside of me, some door that's kept everything safely locked out and at bay for so long. The door opens, and everything comes pouring back inside, and I cry one last time for everything I've lost, for everyone who died, for my old self with no blood on her hands, for Finn, but most of all - for mom.


	44. Chapter 44

They'd gone off to Tondc in the middle of the night. I told them to take care, and I wanted to say the same to Raven but she sat on that cart alone and looked like she didn't want to see anyone. So I didn't. I did manage to fall asleep after that, though it was near dawn breaking, and it had to have been all the crying that had exhausted me into oblivion. As expected, the sleep was riddled with nightmares - and I'd wake up only to find the pillow still smell of Bellamy, which made it worse - but at least it was sleep.

It's the morning after Finn has died, and I've slept it through. I wake up around noon, too thirsty and just a bit hungry and with the skin on my face feeling too tight and a headache that threatens to knock me back out. For that one moment between dream and reality, I've forgotten everything - where I am and what has happened and why I feel like I've been floated and brought back into an airlock. And then, somewhere in between getting up and splashing my face with water, it all comes back. I regret ever waking up, but decide to suck it up and be useful, start preparing for what's coming.

They won't get to Tondc in another day, that's for sure. The next time I wake up and spend the day keeping busy, somewhere around sundown, Finn's body will have burned to ashes. That's not a pleasant thought, but it's inescapable. Even so, I actively try to push it back, every time it comes up.

Dad seems to be keeping an eye on me at all times he can, thinking I don't notice. It irks me; it's like he's afraid I'll have a sudden mental breakdown out of nowhere or something. But I ignore it and let him, focusing on whatever it is I'm doing in that moment. Staying focused on tasks at hand is helpful; not that I have any other option - it's my only coping technique.

I haven't seen Murphy all day - he has to be on some menial task of his own; he always gets the shit jobs around. I've been wanting to seek him out all day long, but I ignore my urge. It's not like I have any idea what to say to him even. The urge itself is too confusing with everything I'm dealing with at the moment, and it's probably there because he's the only one that stayed back that actually knows and understands and shares everything that's happened with me. And if I sought him out at some point we'd have had to talk about Finn and everything that's happened, and I'm not ready for that. Some gaps just can't be bridged, he said, but I feel the gap between us diminishing with every passing moment, and that too is too much to deal with for the time being.

The day ends fast enough, and I've done my best to stay on my feet and keep my hands busy all until I'm sure to be too exhausted to spend any time thinking and staring at the tent canvas above before sleep takes me. It seems to work. I wonder if I'm being a coward - not facing Tondc, not facing Raven, not facing Murphy. But I decide it's necessary to put me back together and pull me back from the edge, to keep me sane until this whole thing's through, because I will be needed one of these days and soon, and when the time comes a loose cannon will be useful to no one. 

I need to put myself back together.

*

''Just don't step over this line,'' I draw with a stick in the dirt, ''Stand straight, like that. Don't clutch the bow like that,'' I adjust Monroe's wrist - she has the patience that truly baffles me, ''Move the wrist outside, out of the line. Keep the elbow out too. Nothing can stand in line with the arrow, alright?''

''Okay, I got it,'' she says with a nod, but when she loosens it's all wrong again.

''I did everything you said!'' she defends.

''Your posture wasn't the problem, it was your pulling arm,'' I sigh, showing her what she did, ''You pulled back with your shoulder instead of your arm, that's not only wrong and messing up your aim, but it's gonna hurt if you keep it up. You need to pull it back like this, so that your elbow is higher than your shoulder. You're pulling back with your arm, not your shoulder.''

''Crap.''

''Come on, you can do it. Octavia did it on the first try, I swear.''

''Octavia's a Grounder,'' she grumbles, aiming again, ''She's good at everything.''

''Cute joke, now stay focused. You're one of the best gunners we have, your aim shouldn't be a problem. I don't see how Octavia's better at _that_.''

''Well, Grounders don't have guns.''

''Ha ha,'' I almost roll my eyes, ''Loose.''

She looses, and this time she hits the designated X on the post, although not even near the center. 

''Progress,'' I hear dad say behind us. Monroe's fist hits the air, like she's achieved her biggest personal victory.

''What are you doing here, dad? Aren't you supposed to be re-wiring that mess we call the control room?''

''What, I can't take a break to watch my daughter do the thing I taught her when she was a kid?'' he smiles as he leans against the wall, arms crossed on his chest.

''Yeah, you should have seen the bow _I_ made,'' I smile, ''You'd pretend you've never met me.''

Dad laughs wholeheartedly, ''Can't be that bad!''

''Yeah, it kind of was until Monty dolled it up,'' Monroe looses another arrow, eager to practice now that she's getting the hang of it. It's a better shot this time.

''Well, it served me well enough,'' I remember the night of the battle, the smile dropping off my face immediately. Dad must have noticed, because he claps his hands together and puts on his excited demeanor like he's not going to let it fly.

''Well, I believe I haven't shot a bow in years now, but,'' he smiles and rolls up his sleeves, ''What do ya say about a little tournament?''

I don't feel like it at all - I still just want to curl up somewhere and sleep life away - but I indulge him, if not for me.

''You kidding me?'' I grin, ''With all due respect, dad; you just signed up for an ass-kicking.''

*

By sundown of the second day my people are away, I'm sure Finn is gone and has turned to ashes. I planned not to think about it, to keep busy through it, but once I realize what time it is and once I see the sun draw back behind the mountaintops, I am pretty sure; and it all just wins over me. It's overwhelming, and I need to be alone, but at Camp Jaha you're never truly alone. I don't think Byrne or any of the guards will let me walk out by myself at a time like this, so I have to sneak out of camp, hoping dad won't notice I'm gone too soon.

The trees welcome me like oldest friends.

There was a time when the trees frightened me, when they frightened us all. There was a time when none of us ever walked out of camp without fear, even in groups or armed to the teeth. The trees were shadows and deceit and death. Danger always lurked among them, or in them. The shade they provided always hid the demons from us, the amount of land they covered all around us made us feel small and trapped. You could never trust the trees.

But now they bring me peace, they calm me. The trees are still shadows, deceit and death; that may not have necessarily changed, not yet. But I have. And I know that whatever lurks among them, I am now a beast in my own right. _I was a lamb. Now I'm a wolf._

A lone wolf is a weak wolf though, but I'm sure I have nothing to worry about now that the truce is in progress - not from the Grounders at least. Bow and quiver slung on my back and a small knife sheathed on my belt, I walk on toward the creek.

I've walked days in pretty much all directions by now, and I am sure the forest still has to stretch further on and on. I can still get lost, if not careful; I could still lose the big picture of this place that has been our unstable home all this time. The forest is vast, the mountains in all directions, but I could never mistake Mount Weather for any other. That one I could point to without looking. If eyes could burn, by now there would be nothing left of it. But I tear my eyes away from it. _No use now._

The creek I come to has to be the same that stretches near the Drop-Ship, the same one Wells and I found when we first came here. I crouch and dip my fingers in the clear cold water. Thinking of Wells is strange, he feels so distant now. For a moment I think that maybe he was spared, maybe he was better off because he might have been trapped in the Mountain now or killed in the battle like so many of us or he might have been tortured or who knows what. But that thought is all wrong. He deserved a shot. The shot that he was unfairly denied. In a way we all suffered for it - Clarke, Finn, Charlotte, Bellamy, John, me, Connor, Myles... it stretches on, like a chain. 

Wells and Finn would have been great friends, I smile at the realization. And maybe if Wells had stayed alive, Finn would still be alive too. That changes the smile into a frown. I can't go there. Who knows how different things would have been with Wells, and there is no point in thinking about it. My heart is already heavy enough.

My chain of thoughts is cut short. When I hear the sound of someone stepping behind me, I know drawing the bow would be too slow, and I'll likely be dead. So in one swift motion and turn of my body, my hand is already up and drawn ready to throw the knife.

''Woah there,'' Murphy puts up his palms, ''Easy.''

''What are you doing here?'' I sheath my knife.

''Well, I saw you sneak out,'' he drawls, stepping forward carefully to join me, ''And since it's getting dark and you went out alone, I figured just in case,'' he shrugs, hands in his pockets, ''No need, apparently. Good luck to the next guy that comes close behind you.''

''I could have killed you,'' I grumble, sitting down on the bank, resigned. He follows as casually as he always did.

''Eh, probably better than a life of mopping floors and shoveling shit.''

A huff escapes me at that, and I can't help a small smirk. But I don't say anything. And I don't have it in me to bicker with Murphy anyway.

''What, you're not gonna tell me I deserve to shovel shit for the rest of my life?'' 

''Is that why you're so obsessed with staying clean? The shit shoveling?''

He smiles, though it looks like he tries to fight it. ''You'd be, too.''

''Probably,'' I admit, ''I'm glad you're okay.''

It came out before I could stop it. Unplanned and without allowance. It's the truth though. Murphy and sickness have a long history that no one deserves to suffer through again. I'm glad he's coping with it all. I don't want him to go completely nuts.

''Yeah,'' he only says, wiping his hands against his pants the way he did every now and then. Well, it's better than the whole hand-scrubbing fiasco anyway.

''How about you?'' he asks after a pause filled with nothing but forest noise, ''You okay?''

''Nah,'' I say - might as well be honest throughout, ''But I'm gonna be. I'm gonna have to be.''

''Yeah, well, you've always been the strong one,'' he says, more quietly, like he's said it to himself rather than me. I don't know what to say to that, so I don't say anything.

But then it comes to me.

''Thank you,'' I say, my voice sounding so small suddenly, surprising me a bit.

''For what?''

''For trying to stop Finn,'' I say, ''For giving a damn. Even though you had more reason to hate the Grounders than any of us.''

''Well, I didn't stop him,'' he throws a pebble into the water, ''If I had, spacewalker would still be alive.''

''That's not on you,'' I shake my head - the water reflects the moon so beautifully now. The chill in the air gives me goosebumps, but it brings me calm as well. I watch the water more than I watch Murphy. I need the peace.

''Yeah, well... still makes me feel like shit.''

I turn to look at him then. He looks like the words have escaped him before he could stop them, like they've betrayed him.

''That day, you asked me if I feel like shit,'' he continues now that the cat is out of the bag, ''I've thought about it.''

''And?''

''If by shit you mean regret, I'm not sure,'' he says, ''Payback felt good. But not in the long run.''

''Temporary satisfaction,'' I nod, the thoughts of Connor and Myles and then Bellamy making me want to inch away from him again, but I make myself sit still.

''Yeah,'' he says, ''You're high on it for a while but once it wears off, the void is still there.''

He was hurt beyond repair, and he thought payback would make it okay again, but it made everything worse. He knows that now too. The void he tried to fill couldn't have ever been filled with revenge. Voids like that can only be filled with love, I know. And that's why he's still empty.

''So, I wouldn't say I feel like shit,'' he continues on, as though to make us forget what he's just said as quickly as possible, ''The only thing I really felt like shit about was Raven.''

''Well, if you hadn't shot her you would have shot the rocket fuel and killed us all on spot, so be glad.''

I regret saying that the moment it escapes my mouth. Be glad? Fuck. It _had_ been the better scenario, but it's now Raven's waking nightmare, her living hell. She doesn't deserve it.

''Fuck,'' he breathes, barely audibly, running his hands over his face.

''She let you off the hook but she has plenty of reasons to be pissed at you,'' I add, ''So what happened that day at the Drop-Ship... It was shitty, but even you should be able to see where it's coming from.''

''I know. She fucked up when she invited you to come along though,'' he says, ''I know how that would have ended. Hell, I see it every night.''

''What? Murphy, no, with or without me, that never would have happened,'' I shake my head, ''Bellamy would have _never_ let that happen. Clarke especially.''

''Ya sure? You think your boyfriend would have fought for me so fiercely if you hadn't been there?''

''Screw you, John,'' I growl at him, pissed now, ''Bellamy forgave you _everything_. If he hadn't, you'd be dead by now, guards or no guards. You think he'd let you walk among us if he thought you posed a threat to any of us? He'd get to you if it meant his own life.''

I pause enough to give him a chance to say something back, but he's staring off, not even trying to open his mouth.

''I know that whole thing with Raven brought shit back fresh for you. I know you went to hell and back with the Grounders, and the nightmares can't be easy. But you and Bellamy? You're fine. I know him. He forgave you, the way you forgave him that day you saved his life. And I'm grateful for that. But we're all scarred, John. I tire myself enough to not be able to stay awake and think, but then when I fall asleep I wish I never had. We all have scars, and we've all done bad things. Just be happy someone's forgiven you yours.''

We sit in silence for a while after that, just listening to the water and the birds and the leaves rustling in the breeze and every now and then I can hear the sound of an owl stand out. It's comfortable silence, but it's probably because both of us are too drained to feel anything else but peace in the moment. We're too weak to fight, too weak to argue. Too much has happened.

''And what about you?'' he breaks the silence.

''What about me?''

''Do _you_ forgive me?''

My heart leaps. I can't.

''Working on it.''


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Another chapter I had a lot of fun writing! My mojo is back!)

''Since I'm not a mechanic, I'm not touching those again until Reyes comes back,'' Kyle Wick liftsed up his hands in retreat, ''I could literally build the Ark from scratch right now and that woman would find faults with it.''

''Well, the radios _are_ her baby,'' I laugh, ''Better wait for her.''

''Then what? We call them, tell them _very sternly_ to let our friends go as we shake a threatening finger?''

''I don't know. They'll come back with a plan,'' I sigh desperately, ''I still say we should have tried to contact the other stations. I'm sure there's survivors out there. Numbers that could help us.''

''Well, it was either that or the ability to listen in on the assholes, so... tough call.''

''I know,'' I almost curse, ''Abby and Kane won't be back in at least another four or five days and if I could just get Byrne to let us scout and try-''

''Hey,'' Kyle warns with raised eyebrows and a finger, ''You know they wouldn't allow that.''

''We're in truce now, aren't we? We should get out there, try to find the other survivors-''

''I'm not killing the power for you again,'' he grumbles, getting back to his drawings and designs.

''If I convince Byrne, you won't have to.''

''Yeah,'' he chuckles, ''Good luck with that.''

*

''Seargent Byrne,'' I call - though I hate titles, I really want her on my good side, ''I've got something that might be of interest to you.''

That seems to snatch the blonde woman's attention, her eyes leaving the treeline and meeting mine.

''What is it?'' she frowns, but then figures we could use some privacy as she leads me to the bar area without a word. We sit down, and I pull out a dirty, old map.

''What is that?''

''Prognosis,'' I admit, ''I've already been to a couple of sites. I found no survivors. But,'' I straighten it against the table, ''Rand- _A friend_ \- did some scouting for me and helped me estimate where the stations could have fallen, and _this_ ,'' I point, ''This place is a two days travel from here tops, if you know your way around.''

''What makes you believe there's survivors there?''

''I don't know, but it's worth a check,'' I plead, ''Since that beacon, we've sent no signals. We've showed no signs that could have differentiated us from the Grounders. The survivors - if there are any out there - may have seen smoke from the fires or heard people, but there was no way they could have known it's us-''

''Parish Natasha, right?'' - I nod - ''I remember you. You're one tough girl, I'll give you that. But there's no way I'm going to allow a kid to go on a one woman mission days long, in the deep forest infested with God knows what, to a destination you're not even sure of. I cannot take that authority, and I cannot answer to your parents.''

''Parent,'' I correct, ''You wouldn't have to worry about my father since I no longer need his permission,'' I say. In truth, I will turn eighteen and be legal in another month if my calculations are right, but I've already gone through rites of passage far more significant than a law of age. Not that it matters now.

''But that's what I've been meaning to talk to you about,'' I keep on, ''It wouldn't be a one woman mission.''

''If you suggest I spare the men in these times-''

''Exactly in these times!'' I jump in, ''We've formed a truce with the Tri Kru, they pose no danger to us out there now that we're under Lexa's protection. And you wouldn't even have to spare more than a couple of men! Byrne, we could come back thrice our number.''

She pauses at that, as though considering it for the first time. I continue, wanting to use that moment.

''More people. More guards. More guns,'' I plead, ''I think it's worth the risks.''

''Even if I were to spare a small group,'' she starts, ''How do I justify sending you back out there? This is no longer your little chaos party, we can't keep sending you back out there with weapons in hand pretending-''

''We are _not_ kids,'' I growl, voice low, slapping the metal table with my palm, ''Not since the moment we stepped foot on this planet. What we've done to survive - there is no way in _hell_ you know what you're doing out here better than we do.''

''Mind yourself,'' warns Byrne.

''Look, I'm just trying to do good work,'' I say, more kindly, ''There's gotta be people out there, our people. People that we need and that need us. And if there is one person in this camp that knows their way around those woods, you can be sure it's me.''

Another pause, but now it's obvious that she's mulling it over. The prospect of more guards and more guns even if it's just a handful has to be beyond tempting to her. 

''I can't spare more than three men,'' she shakes her head, like she hates herself for even considering.

''More than enough,'' I insist, ''I'll take Monroe, she's great with a gun-''

''That's five people,'' she continues, ''If you're not back in a few days, preferably before the Chancellor is back, I'm afraid there will be no rescue team sent after you. I need to know that you understand the risks.''

''I do,'' I nod, ''But I need you to focus on the possible gains instead.''

She gives a short, stern nod. ''It will be noon soon, you're losing time. You should leave as soon as possible. Meet me at the gate when you're ready.''

*

Dad looked like he didn't like the idea of my setting off, but he didn't say anything against it, knowing there wasn't really anything to be said. He knows I'm doing the right thing, he just wishes someone else would do the fetching. Either way it was a humble ''take care'' and ''be back soon'' instead of any sort of goodbyes.

It takes a bit over two days of travel with very, very little rest to get to the designated spot. The three guards - whose names I learned to be Jonas, Ringer and Dwyght - have had no pretense of bossing us two ''kids'' around the way I half expected them to. Apparently, Byrne has told them to follow my lead, which means she really knows I'm the one who knows how to get around these woods best. She trusts me. Monroe, on the other hand, is still a bit jittery out here among the trees, truce or no truce. I told her the only thing she should be worried about are Reapers maybe, and instead of comforting it came out as a warning, so I made it worse. I told her Reapers never come this far out west too, since no one likes the mere sound of them. Creeped out or not, no one has showed it much. Everyone's handled themselves well enough for the entirety of the trek.

Since nights are longer now, we can't afford to lose time or let it stop us, so we keep on with torches in hand even when every instinct tells us we should be sleeping instead. There have been suggestions, but I press on, and they obey. Monroe's complained, but I would rather have them all hate me for the duration of the trip than lose precious time and risk getting back way after the Tondc escort. So we keep on. 

Our trek is almost surprisingly uneventful - after everything we've all been through, safety feels downright weird. We don't seem to have any troubles with the wildlife either, which is a relief as far as circumstances go. Some type of radiated insect the size of my hand that resembled a scorpion a whole lot is the most dangerous thing we've encountered. The rest seem to scurry away from us instead. A good thing, that. _Precious time._

Finding the best path proves to be more difficult than I thought, and when we've seemingly gotten closest to our destination, for a moment there I really think we're lost. It's more of a whole hour than a moment, really - an hour of pure panic suppressed so as to not alarm the rest. Dawn is still a way off, and I've been so sure we're on the right path, but now the trees all look the same, and I've lost all sense of direction, and I can't even differentiate the top of Mount Weather from the rest, and _fuck, we could die here._

I dare not say it though. Under the light of the torches I keep scanning the map, keep trying to find the right way through the trees. My heart is beating faster, but I can't let them know and let them panic too. They've all given their own suggestions for our next move, but none of them make sense, everyone's said something different, and God damn it I am the one actually experienced, and if I don't figure out a way ahead, no one will, and their lives will be on my hands. But I can't panic. Focus. Read. Scan. Think. Calculate. Find higher ground. Go around in circles. Read again. Scan again. Think harder. Figure it out. _We will not die here._

When I finally do ''figure it out'', it's half-sureness half-prayer. And a curse at the additional time it's taken me. ''You sure this is the right way, Parish?'' Dwyght - the bear of a man - asks. He's so tall and burly even his shadow dwarfs me. Even in darkness, his white teeth shine in contrast to his dark skin. He has a kind face that makes me very comfortable and glad he's with us. ''Pretty sure,'' I tell him, and hope to God I'm right.

But we do make it. With the first cracks of dawn, we reach our hillside, and I thank God silently at the sight of it, as relief shoots through me. This is where we're supposed to be. It's still dark so it's hard to see, but the Ark remnants should be somewhere around here. Maybe on the other side? It's a pretty steep climb, how much time would it take us to go around the hill? It looks like it covers a vast patch of ground, as far as we can see. We don't seem to have a choice though, so I decide we should go west, following the edge of it. I keep looking harder up there, straining my eyes under the light of the torches and what little the barely cracking dawn provides, like I'm going to see a station sitting pretty on a hill any moment now. The sky is dark purple, to the inexperienced eye still night-time. But it would crack soon.

After a couple more miles I see it - above the tallest trees up above you can see the edge of a plateau. On the plateau stand remnants of the Ark, a shining beacon of new hope. From all the way down where we are, we can only see bits of it. Hope surges through me when I see no char and no debris immediately, but we're still a way off and it's still dark and we've barely seen bits of it and I could be way way wrong. _No getting excited yet._

It's almost a two hundred feet climb to the plateau though, and we have to figure out how to get up there. It's pretty steep, and we can't rely on our own hands. Dwyght has a hatchet on him, but there's only so much one can do with a single hatchet when climbing. With two, one may be able to get up there. I curse at myself for not thinking this through enough, for not analyzing every little possibility.

''We would have heard someone up there, if there was anyone,'' Jonas suggests after a while, a hand going through his greying hair in worry and nerves on edge.

''All the way up there, and this early?'' I ask, ''You sure?''

''I'm with him on this one,'' Ringer says, shaking his heada - his silky black hair dancing around his face. It reminds me of Finn Collins, and sends a stab of pain through my chest. I shake it off. ''There's no one up there, kid,'' he added.

''You want us to take you up on that? We need to _see_.''

''But how? There's no way we can get up there, the least we can do is get back and report and come back here when we're better equipped-''

''I got it,'' Monroe says, cocking her gun at the sky. Her gun clicks before either of us can say anything; she's already fired a shot before any of us could even try and stop her. It's done before we could catch it.

One single bullet booms and echoes eerily through the night. The sound is bouncing off the hillside and the trees and we all hold a collective breath, like the noise of that gun just makes everything ten times more creepy with the sky barely turning purple and nothing but quiet forest sounds around us.

''That should be signal enough,'' she quips, almost with a shrug.

''Damn it, what is it with you kids and guns,'' Jonas hisses, ''Good job alerting the whole freaking forest to our presence!''

''I think we'll be able to handle a few wolves,'' I say, looking up expectantly. I don't really dare truly expect to find anyone up there, but I still hope. God damn it, I really hope.

A head peeks out over the ledge before leaning further in to reveal the rest of the body. A young man, as far as I can assume - around Bellamy's age probably. I can't see much of him in the flickering shadows to make any conclusions though. The mere fact that there is someone up there staring down at us is crazy enough; it seems pretty damn impossible at the moment. Our people! More of our people! I almost don't believe my own eyes. He stands up there with a lantern in hand that shines some light on his somewhat frightened and confused features, and we have to look as dumbfounded as he is, staring up at him. And then he speaks, after we've all remembered to breathe:

_''Holy fucking shit.''_

*

They pull us up from a ledge a little further west. They've been using it when they needed, ever since they landed. A handful of them would rappel up and down, in charge of getting the food and water. They have a sort of a system, or so we're told as we walk back to their ''camp''. The boy's name is Sean, and he can't stop asking questions frantically throughout. I can't answer every one, and I don't want to be the one to relay the details of everything we've gone through with the Grounders. He leads us to what's been their home since the Ark came down. It's dawned by the time we reach the place.

I am half-surprised that they seem to have their own little camp up here, though I guess I should have expected it. It doesn't look like much. A crash site, for sure - a lot of trash and broken things and a rubble that barely resembles an Ark station. Only one small portion of it is usable, providing some shelter to the survivors. Even so, the sight of it is mesmerizing. 

There aren't many survivors either. Even assuming not everyone is awake yet, they can't count over twenty-something. Still, it's twenty-something more people that could shoot twenty-something more guns. Precious numbers. 

It isn't just about the numbers; I'm not becoming that cold yet. The realization that more of our people are alive really grips me and over-floods me with happiness. It's gut-wrenching to think of how many have died, and what must it have been like for those who live to bury so many, or in which state they might have found some of their friends and family before they could try and bury them. I don't dare ask anything regarding the matter.

Truthfully, they've been lucky, landing on a spot this secluded and on higher ground. The Grounders must have seen where the station has fallen, but since the survivors are few and have kept to themselves, they probably haven't seemed worth the hassle. 

''This is it,'' Sean says, extending an arm as though announcing it in a grandiose manner. The five of us still seem to hold a collective breath as we watch the people go about their business. Someone is gutting a rabbit. It all seems so normal. They are... surviving. 

The moment people start noticing us, it's like they've seen God. In seemingly less than a moment, everyone rushes and clusters around us, eyes wide, some of them teary, asking questions all at once, in disbelief of us as much as we are in disbelief of them. Sean and a guard of theirs has to stand ahead of us just in case the crowd tries to overrun us in their excitement, trying to calm everyone. Then Jonas recognizes the guard and they go into a hug and laugh and clap each other's backs and I just stand there, still stunned, me and Monroe sharing a glance at each other before staring back at everyone around. The crowd is still roaring, everyone still talking at the same time. There is hope for us all; that's what holds a grip on them. It seems like a dream, the whole thing.

''Everyone, please!'' Sean shouts, raising his hands to silence the crowd. The noise only dies down a little - enough for an announcement to be heard. ''We all have questions, but they cannot answer them all at once! Let them speak!''

The noise dies down a bit more, and I realize they expect one of us to start speaking. Start explaining. I wait, by habit leaving it to someone else, expecting someone to start talking. I look to Jonas, being the oldest, but he's looking back at me, a grin from his friendly encounter still lingering on his face. I glance at Dwyght and Monroe to my left, and they both give a suggestive nudge of their heads at the same time. There are now only buzzes through the small crowd.

I clear my throat. I don't know where to start.

My name seems like a good place. I don't seem to know a single soul here from back up on the Ark anyway.

''My name is Natasha Parish. I- _We_ ,'' I correct, giving a small smile to Monroe, ''Came down with the first hundred. We've been through a lot since then, but that's a story for another day. Right now you need to know that we have a home, hundreds of our people living in Camp Jaha not a few days walk from here.''

People laugh, some hug, some thank God, someone cries; but mostly I am just blinded by so many smiles and hopeful hands that tremble as they touch faces and clasp other hands and pray this isn't a lie and there isn't a catch. I grin like a fool despite myself, my eyes watering and hairs standing on end at the mere sight of so much happiness. It probably won't last long, the thought comes, but I push it away.

''When do we leave!'' someone shouts.

''As soon as you're ready!'' Dwyght's voice booms over the crowd, a grin plastered on his face too.

''Everyone, start packing, there will be time for more questions and explanations. Right now, we need to get ready,'' Sean announces, ''Essentials only, we'll want to travel light. By the time the hunters are back, I want everyone packed and ready to go.''

In another moment, the crowd disperses, getting to their corners and on their tasks immediately.

''Who's the leader here?'' I ask, and it sounds an awful lot like ''It can't possibly be you.'' Sean seems to read through it but apparently takes no offense in it as a smile breaks out on his face. He's handsome, and not in face only. His build reminds me of Bellamy's.

''No leader, mostly just guards handling the order around here. They've kept us safe,'' he shrugs.

''How many guards?'' Monroe asks.

''Six in total,'' Sean frowns at the small number, ''A lot of people died in that rubble. It's a wonder we survived, really.''

We all nod grimly, not commenting on it. 

''But!'' he claps his hands, ''You lot should rest if you want to be alive for the journey back. No offence, but you all look like you've been floated and brought back.''

''Gee, thanks,'' I smirk.

''Lisa!'' he calls over to someone, ''These people need food! Make it happen, will you!''

''Any trouble with the Grounders?'' I ask him as he walks us to the inner side of their camp to where the remnants of last night's campfire stand.

''Yeah,'' his voice sounds heavy now, ''We lost people the very first day we went down into those woods. The bastards made damn sure to let us know this was their territory.''

''How many?''

''Too many for our already small numbers,'' he frowns, sitting down himself as he reaches for a few metal bottles of water that stand in a cask kept in the shade. We all grab one.

''We heard them a few days ago,'' he continues, ''Saw the lights of their camps even all the way from here. It sounded like they were preparing for a battle.''

''They were,'' I frown.

''You?'' he asks, almost in disbelief.

''Yeah,'' Monroe confirms, having a swing of the water like it's moonshine. She probably wishes it was, the moment she remembers the whole thing.

_Finn._

I shake it off.

''Long story,'' I say, ''You'll hear all of it soon. From someone else.''

''The Chancellor?''

''Jaha and Kane made it, but Dr. Griffin is Chancellor now,'' Dwyght smiles as a woman I assume is the one named Lisa brings us some meat and wild fruits. We all dig in, saving our own provisions for the trip back.

''A lot has happened, so be prepared to digest it all,'' I say, swallowing a chunk, ''And I mean it.''

Sean nods. ''The guards will be back from the hunt in a few hours. The people will give you their cots and tents. You should use the time to sleep.''

He leaves us with that, the four of us trying to digest everything that's happened along with the food, and Jonas off somewhere with his newly found friend, refusing to leave his side now.

*

The guards come back about two hours after noon, by the position of the sun. We've all had ourselves a good few hours of sleep, but once the hunters are back it's time to re-group and try to get everyone to get going as soon as possible. I really want to be back before the Tondc escort, but I know now that probably won't be possible with all these people. There are a couple of kids among them, and their mothers are probably terrified of stepping down into those woods with their children in hand. It doesn't matter that we've told them all that we now have a truce with the Grounders. No one seems to trust it much. 

After getting some more food in us and re-grouping, we go out and wait for everyone to gather in front of the camp. Bit by bit, the small throng forms. There seems to be only a few extra guns that the guards were able to retrieve, and they are held by unskilled hands of a couple of civilians. The rest have hand-made weapons - knives and short spears they'd use to defend themselves if they have to.

''Everyone, get behind us,'' I hear a voice boom over again, but this time it sounded familiar - why does it sound familiar? I can't see the man yet through the formed crowd, but I know it has to be one of the guards that's come back. I only got a chance to take a glance at two of them earlier today before they rushed to get ready once they were debriefed by Sean. I was just waking up, too. 

Why does he sound so familiar?

''Caleb and Vlad, I want you at the rear!'' he goes on, ''Keep together and move carefully! I don't want anyone trailing off, understood?!''

The sound gets closer and clearer until he's stepped out in the open and I can finally see him. And it's like one of those slow-motion scenes in those stupid over a hundred year old action movies where the protagonist scans the opponent slowly from feet up to his face: Boots. Guard uniform. Shock baton and side-arm. Calloused hands and prominent veins sticking out on strong arms with sleeves rolled up. Vest. And the face of a man I definitely know.

_''You.''_


	46. Chapter 46

''You,'' I said, barely hearing myself. There is no way anyone else could have heard me, not even Monroe standing right next to me, so there is no way anyone can stop me when I tear off and leap onto the man like a cheetah. 

He never saw me coming. He's on the ground and I've punched him with all the strength I could muster and just as he's recollected himself in defense my hands are already around his throat, squeezing with the strength I never thought I had, burning with the hatred I never thought I was capable of. I _want_ him to die. He's fighting back, trying to get me off of him, but I am so strong and so eager and all I can do is pray to some absent God to let me squeeze the life out of this man before someone tears me away from him.

My prayers go unanswered. Just as he's about to lose consciousness, hands are on me, and with more struggle than they've probably expected they'd need, they tear me off of the man.

There are some shouts and cries around me, there have to be, but I am deafened by my hatred just as much as I am blinded. I have tunnel vision; I don't even know who has a hold on me. All I see is him still on the ground and all I want and try to do is tear off again and this time bite into the artery on his neck instead.

Frank fucking Nichols. The man who tried to rape me. The man who deserves to die.

The longer I'm held the less I'm seeing red. They have a firm hold on me, and I am starting to realize I no longer stand a chance. Nichols is still on the ground, though sitting now and holding his throat and coughing and glaring daggers at me. No one seems to dare approach him, even to help him up. The red curtain is finally down now, and I am aware of Dwyght and Monroe's hands on me. I stop trying to fight them off, to show them I'm not hostile now. They still hold me though, uncertainly, with less force, with horrified frowns on their faces, probably ready as hell to shower me with questions and determine if I've gone completely nuts.

Nichols strides toward me. ''What the hell is wrong with you?!'' he shouts. And at that I lose it again.

''Me? ME?! YOU SON OF A BITCH-'' Dwyght has made a mistake of loosening his grip on me, because I am now loose again and a few feet away from the one I want to kill with my bare hands. Before I can though, hands are on me again. I am screaming, as Nichols just stands there at arm's reach and watches me struggle against hands trying to keep me in control. Looking at me like I'm crazy. Like I'm the psycho one.

''YOU'LL PAY. YOU'LL FUCKING PAY FOR EVERYTHING YOU DID OR I SWEAR TO GOD-''

''Tasha!!'' Monroe shouts. Dwyght now has my hands firmly behind my back. 

''Get her out of here!'' Frank shouts, pissed, wiping the blood off his lip carefully. The audacity he has to be pissed. The audacity to order me out like I'm the one disturbing public order.

''No!'' I shout as Dwyght and Monroe literally have to drag me away from the scene - it's only now that I realize everyone present is staring in horror. ''What are you doing?! Put him in custody, he's fucking dangerous-!''

They hear me shout some more before Dwyght and Monroe and now Sean too manage to drag me to a safe distance away. Which means out of camp altogether. ''Don't make me tie your hands for real,'' Dwyght says with some probably undeserved kindness before he lets go of my hands. With a promise I won't do anything, he trusts me and lets me free.

We're in the small forest behind, among the trees that seem to manage to calm me down at least a little bit. They stare at me silently and horrified as I pace around trying to catch my breath and get my composure back, before seating myself on a fallen log. Desperately, I lean my elbows on my knees and bury my hands in my hair, pulling some of it out of the braids. They wait for and expect explanations that I don't quite know how to give them. I am just trying to collect myself.

''Okay, what the hell was that?!'' Sean demands. I look up. His hands are on his hips, the way Wick would stand sometimes when he's outraged by Raven. Dwyght has a lot more calm to him, surprisingly having more trust in me than I think I've earned in only a couple of days. Monroe, on the other hand, is looking at me like she thinks she knows what's going on, but isn't certain.

''He can't come with us,'' I say, so calmly and quietly, I almost surprise myself. I am suddenly so exhausted.

''What are you talking about?!'' Sean demands still, ''You don't get to decide who gets to come and who doesn't! You better have a damn good reason-!''

''That _man_ ,'' I find my voice again, as loud as it can get short of shouting, ''Is a danger to everyone. Better go around your camp and ask the women if they have anything to share about Frank Nichols because I'm pretty sure his hands have been places they weren't supposed to-''

''What are you even-,'' Sean's face literally convulses in a way that shows everything is completely incomprehensible to him right now.

''I'm telling you he's fucking dangerous!''

''Was he...?'' Monroe trails off, wanting a confirmation from me, but daring not ask fully. I only nod, knowing what she means. She knows the story, everyone back in the Skybox knew at least a version. She nods back in understanding, and doesn't say anything else.

''Well, shit,'' Dwyght utters. He's probably believed it's all a lie too before he just saw me try to squeeze the life out of the man. If Nichols hadn't truly tried what he'd tried, I wouldn't have been so honestly eager to kill him. If that wasn't a convincer, nothing would ever be. After the whole scandal, a lot of people believed my side of the story, but most stood by with the story of the verdict. In the eyes of many, my story was fabricated and I was nothing but a psycho little delinquent that tried to kill an honest guard that probably just caught me stealing and tried to do his job. I couldn't blame the people, honestly. The way they covered up things on the Ark would have fooled anyone.

''Hello?'' Sean waves a hand, ''Anyone care to bloody explain?''

''I'm surprised the whole Ark doesn't know,'' I mutter, staring at the ground, elbows back on my knees, hands clasped, knuckles bloody. Tired. 

When I set out a couple of days ago I never in a million years thought I'd find this. I never really considered the option of seeing this man ever again.

''Like two years ago or something, Nichols was involved in a scandal,'' Monroe relays the story, ''No one stopped talking about it for like a week straight.''

''Oh yeah, I remember. When that girl accused him of...? Oh yeah, it was everywhere! He could have lost his- Oh.''

He probably never thought it true before either, but now he's at a crossroads. I watch his face change from realization to genuine concern. He's had this man among them all this time with all the children after all. If what I'm saying is true - which in his mind now, it likely is - the responsibility would be on his hands too. He has a sort of a role around camp, that much is obvious.

''I can't bring him back to a camp full of women and girls and boys and I don't care how respected he still is or who the fuck believes him - this is not the Ark, and the Council's decision can kiss my ass. I did my time in the Skybox, doesn't matter; but down here we're not helpless at the hands of Thelonius Jaha. If he can't get his punishment for what he tried to do to me, at least keep him away before he tries to harm someone else. We've made a home for ourselves, you really want this man sleeping among us?''

''You're right,'' Monroe says, ''And if it were up to me I'd let you go strangle him right now and keep watch while you do it. But it's not, T. And it's not up to you either.''

I look up to meet her face. The deep creases between her brows speak volumes of just how bad she feels about the way things are, but she knows she's unfortunately right. And I know she's right as well. I hate it, but I know it.

''Like you said, we're no longer helpless at the hands of Jaha,'' she adds, ''The people get to decide now, not us. And the new Council gets to approve.''

''Even if we were to look the other way and let you... do whatever you think you need to do,'' Dwyght adds reasonably, ''A lot of people witnessed what just happened.'' 

I understand. If I killed Nichols, they'd know it was me, and maybe I'd be compromised. Monroe and Dwyght would surely stand by my side, but would it be enough, if the people turned against me? And would the Council clear me of it, since I acted on my own? Everyone was pardoned for everything back on the Ark the moment they hit the Ground. Would my actions be a crime?

Too many questions I can't deal with at the moment, but I know what I have to do.

''I want eyes on him at all times,'' I say, ''Once we're home I'm making a case against him at the Council. Abby will deal with him.''

I trust Abby. She's the one that stood by me when the whole thing happened. I trust she'll know best what to do, even though I know she'll probably clear him of everything. That doesn't mean she won't have eyes on him and hands ready to snatch him at the first sign of a misconduct.

Yeah, I trust her.

''I'll make sure he's supervised,'' Sean adds with a stern nod, before walking away.

We just can't catch a break.

*

It has taken way too long for all of us to get off the plateau, and adding that to the whole mess I caused and the commotion, we've lost a good chunk of the day. It's already sundown once we cover the first few miles, and we're moving much slower, just as I assumed. Just like the way we came, we barely use a couple of hours to rest the first night, and press on under the light of our torches. 

The second night, I have to let them sleep more. There are children among us, after all. We have three smaller fires crackling for each of the smaller groups we've separated in to sleep under the trees. Frank Nichols is all the way across, as far away from me as he can be. Ringer is always by his side, like a leech. I appreciate that beyond what words can say; I need one of our people on him instead of trusting Sean with the matter blindly. I try not to look their way though. I'm afraid I'll lose all control the next time I see that face. For the remainder of our trip, he seems to keep away from me as well, which makes him smarter than he seems.

My dad will kill him. It had dawned on me long ago, but now it's echoing in my head. Where I resisted, dad wouldn't, and then he'd pay for it. And if dad doesn't kill him, Bellamy will, once he puts it together. Honestly, maybe even Murphy will snap and risk earning himself the punishment. I can't think about any of that right now though. I simply can't believe I am actually bringing this man back to camp. I am putting people in jeopardy. I should have said fuck it all and taken the matters into my own hands. But I know I can't now. And as ridiculous as it is, we have bigger things to think about. We've faced greater dangers and would face greater dangers still. I have to keep that perspective.

''You did good here,'' Monroe says as we watch the flames dance, ''At least fifteen more guns. It makes a difference.''

''Yeah.''

''Now we can get our friends out. With Grounder numbers we could level that mountain.''

''And if they don't give us back our people, we're gonna,'' I give her a smile. I don't feel like smiling. Finn died for an alliance that stands on fragile legs, an alliance we depend on to get our friends back. Monty and Nathan and Jasper and Harper and Fox and almost everyone I've ever known on this God forsaken Earth was taken away from me and the belief that they are still alive stands on legs just as fragile, but we have to rely on that as well. Nothing is certain, and nothing is alright. Thinking about so many people on top of Finn's death is just too much to handle. But we have to.

''Well, combine Monty's genius and Miller's anger and they might level that mountain themselves,'' Monroe smirks. I smile at the thought - I do trust in their abilities to take care of themselves. But they are outnumbered, so it hardly matters.

''That mountain,'' Sean speaks after a while, sprawled on the ground with hands below his head - I've told him the whole Mount Weather story in short and he's had a hard time understanding it all, ''Is shelter. Sealed off, right? Which means it's radiation proof. You already said they can't leave it without hazmat suits.''

''Yeah.''

''Then why not just blow open the doors and let them roast?''

''There's levels on the inside, airlocks,'' Monroe replies, ''You blow the outer doors open you'll just contaminate the upper level, not the whole thing.''

''That's where the army comes in though, right?'' I suggest, ''Open the door, you can storm the whole place.''

''Well that's one way of doing it,'' Sean says, stretching a bit, ''With a lot of people dying.''

''And what would be _your_ plan then?'' I cross my arms with a smile, amused. The three of us are the only ones awake in our corner, now apparently dishing out our own military plans like it's usual mindless chatter before sleep.

''Get someone to their control room, get all the doors open,'' he suggests.

''That easy, huh.''

Sean shrugs in reply. I realize now, in his leisurely state and under the flickering lights of the fire, that he's really handsome. Boyish, with a cute, mischievous smile and pretty teeth, and blue eyes and short dirty blonde hair, still neatly cropped. He's the complete opposite of Bellamy, but just as attractive in his own right.

''Well, we don't know the plan yet,'' I say, making myself comfortable on my jacket on the ground, ''So it's no use.''

''I don't care what it is,'' I can hear Monroe utter, ''I just wanna do it already.''

*

That night I dream of Nathan Miller.

We were defending the Drop-Ship side by side, just like we once did, but not from the Grounders. I never really saw the enemy out in the distance and thick morning fog, but I knew it was the Mountain Men. We were shooting at ghosts, but I knew they were closing in on us, because I could hear more and more bullets whizzing past us, and it was becoming worse by the second. Panic rose in me and kept rising and bubbling up until I could hardly breathe properly; it buzzed like electricity throughout the rest of the camp stright from me. Jasper was thrown back from the other post, the bullet in his shoulder slamming so hard it made him topple over backwards. And all too soon he wasn't the only one, and Clarke was nowhere to be found. No one could help the wounded falling one by one, dying one by one.

Miller grabbed my wrist as we tore off frantically to try and find her, but it was Bellamy who found us instead, shouting that Clarke was gone to get Lexa, to get help, to save us. I cried out that she wasn't coming, we were dying, no one was coming to help. There was so much noise and so many people falling. Bellamy said he was going after her himself, stepped out of the camp and right into that fog like it was nothing. I ran after despite Miller trying to stop me, and as I stepped into that fog I couldn't see anything through, I knew - somehow I just did - that no bullet could harm me anymore. Not here. Bellamy and I passed through the fog unscathed. 

On the other side of the fog lay a field, a clearing without a tree in sight. There was cut wood prepared for a fire in the middle, and I could see Clarke and Lexa standing next to it, looking at it like they could will it into flames. No Grounders. I felt the sudden need to take Bellamy's hand, because all of this felt deeply wrong for some reason. Where were the Grounders? Where was the help? Now it was like my people dying back in that Drop-Ship was a barely lingering and fading memory from some past life though. Like it belonged to a different dream, a different reality, a different universe. All I knew and could remember was that we were in a need, and we were here, desperate. But something was wrong.

 _Bellamy's hand._ No. Irrationally, I felt like if I did take his hand, that would start making bad things happen - like the world would just decide to give me a reason to hold onto his hand and seek comfort. Like I held control over events in the palm of my sweaty hand. 

Carefully, we stepped forward, unsure step after unsure step, until we approached them close enough to see Finn's body on top of the lumber. Before I could say anything, before I could cry out, Clarke and Lexa had torches in their hands. They brought them down, and Finn was engulfed in flames that seemed to lick at the sky, and I wake with a start and a cry and drenched in sweat.

Monroe wakes right after, grabbing her rifle immediately, instinctively, like I've called her into battle. The two guards already awake that stand watch give me odd looks.

''It's nothing,'' I breathe, ''Sorry. Get back to sleep.''

''You okay?'' Monroe asks, a crease between her eyebrows as she scans my face with worry.

''Yeah,'' I nod, ''Go back to sleep, we'll be up soon enough.''

*

The rest of the trip back takes longer, just as I expected. I am under a lot more pressure to keep the route as safe as possible, now that I know we have children among us. Five kids, to be exact. One of them, a girl named Tessa, has somehow managed to twist an ankle in between two rocks in the ground. That stops us for an additional hour and slows us a bit further on. Not to mention their persistent distrust for the Grounders and eyeing the woods like they'll pop out any second. I can't blame them. Honestly, after everything that's happened to us, I think about how smart it is to trust them myself. Maybe that's what my subconscious was trying to tell me in that exhausting, stupid dream. But I know I have to trust them, for Finn's sake. I owe his death that.

I know I have to ease the people if I want us to get back any time soon, so just to pacify the folks I take Dwyght and me to the van, marching up ahead and scouting. Not that we have anything to scout for, but it makes the civilians feel safer. And it works, more or less.

I try not to think about Nichols and how I'll have to present everything to everyone back home, and I also try not to think about the possible plan they might have come up with while I've been gone. It's all-consuming, so better to not think about it at all.

''Can you see them?'' I ask Dwyght, as he turns around to check on our group like he's been doing every now and then. We don't want to lose them by going too far ahead, especially when they trust me most to navigate their way around these woods.

''Yeah, they're behind us,'' he cranes his neck, before turning back to me, ''Earth skills, huh.''

''You don't really realize how useless most of those classes are until you step foot on Earth,'' I shake my head at the thought, ''I nailed every single one back on the Ark. And down here, I could barely use the knowledge properly. It's insane, how much we were never prepared for this.''

''Well, you seem better prepared than most, kiddo,'' Dwyght adjusts his rifle, ''I'd bet on you.''

I chuckle, an honest, whole-hearted laugh. I am better at surviving than I used to be, which is the only natural thing, but I still think I'm a way off from being prepared. Still, it cheers me up for a moment, Dwyght's weird compliment and honesty.

But then Finn hits me again. And everything and everyone else in retrospective, all to Murphy's hanging and finding Wells dead. That seems another lifetime now, but it makes me think that if I'd been any better prepared, a lot of things wouldn't have happened, and a lot of people might still be alive.

That's stupid, of course. There's no way of knowing, and even so, it's stupid to put all that on my shoulders. Our shoulders. Maybe we could have done better, but we'll never get to try again.

''You trust this alliance?'' Dwyght asks, and I have to look up to meet his eyes - my head reaches up to his shoulders, and I've never exactly been on the short side either.

''I have to. For Finn.''

''Sorry about that, kiddo.''

''Yeah, we all are.''

''It better work then,'' he says, ''Especially with these people we have in tow right now.''

''Don't worry about the Grounders,'' I say, ''If you're gonna worry, worry about their outlaws.''

He tenses at that, seems to clutch his rifle a bit tighter.

''Relax, Dwyght,'' I offer a smile, ''We came this way and we barely encountered a deer, remember?''

That doesn't mean much, but it seems to help when I say it. Of course, outlaws could have nested around here in the meantime. But I don't think there would be anyone in the woods so far west, and if there is - well, that's why we're scouting. Also, if there were any bandit camps, we'd probably outnumber them. I just don't like the idea of killing in front of these people, these children.

*

It happens at sundown, when the orange disc still looms a bit up above the mountain peeks, and the rays still spill over the lands like a golden coat. There isn't a cloud in the sky, no chance of bad weather stopping or slowing us, or soaking our health out of us. Since the moment we stepped out of the gates that day up until now, it's all just seemed to good. If there is a God, he's been favoring us.

Until now.

At first I can only hear it - that sound. It's familiar, but in that one instant, I just can't put a finger on it. It sounds like some sort of tribal cries, echoing through the woods, but it doesn't sound like Grounders. We can't dwell on it though. Hands shaky on the guns and eyes wide, Dwyght and I run back to the group, realizing the sound is coming from behind, where our people follow.

Reapers. Six or seven of them; I can't count in all that insanity. The people have clustered together, surrounded by the guards with weapons trained at what looks like monsters to them. A child is crying, or more of them. The Reapers aren't attacking, like they want to taunt and play with their prey a little bit first. I don't think they understand the danger of the guns pointed at them. I don't think they're capable of understanding the concept. But I remember one of the terms of our truce with the Grounders. And as crazy as I sound, I shout:

''Don't shoot!''

Heads turn to me incredulously, Dwyght's included as he stands right next to me. They are surrounded, and they can't shoot?

The Reapers have turned toward us too. One of them - particularly ugly - tilts his head in what can be discerned as amusement, looking at me. 

''Monroe, you get them back,'' I say, voice a bit shaky with the sudden rush of adrenaline. Monroe looks terrified, but she only nods, understanding.

''Natasha-?'' I can hear Sean's voice.

''What are you doing?'' Dwyght demands.

''I hope you're a runner,'' I say, before shooting at the sky. 

It works like magic. The Reapers are after us, running and snarling like mad, as Dwyght and I sprint through the trees and across the rocks and roots that want nothing more than to trip us over and into our deaths.


	47. Chapter 47

I don't know how far we run or for how long until our muscles start burning and lungs giving in. We have to lose them, and fast, but as much as we cut left and right, the Reapers aren't letting up. That's good, in a way, because by now we've drawn them all the way the hell away from our people. Things sren't looking up for the two of us though, if we don't think of something fast.

''We should split up!'' Dwyght manages to growl as we run still, the Reaper cries echoing behind us.

''We're not splitting up!'' I manage - we are stronger together and I don't want Dwyght wandering the woods without me anyway, ''I know what to do! We just need to gain more on them!''

Neither of us know how we pull more out of ourselves, but somehow we manage to put in more speed. Running and hopping and twisting ahead, we finally put more ground between us and our pursuers. My brain works like a computer, focused on not tripping on anything while at the same time trying to visualize the exact path to the Drop-Ship.

This has to work.

''Listen to me,'' I wheeze now that the Reapers are some way behind us, ''I need you to do exactly as I say.''

Dwyght gives me a brief concerned look as we sprint ahead, followed by a short nod.

''They're gonna follow me into the Drop-Ship,'' I continue, ''The door mechanism still works. There's a lever on your right the moment you step in. You pull it and you run out before the door closes.''

''What- What are you-?!'' he stutters, ''You're crazy!''

''Just trust me.''

Running, running, running. Running until every tendon in my legs is threatening to rip itself apart. Running with lungs burning and sweat in my eyes and the cries of the Reapers in my ears. The cries are what pushes me forward even when I think I'll drop dead any moment. _I can't anymore_ , I think, but then the cries ring louder in my ears. _But I have to. I have to or I'm dead and it won't be an easy death either._ I imagine Reapers eating me up alive and all of a sudden I'm running with a new surge of strength, bolting like thunder ahead.

Then there it is, right in sight. As we sprint toward the Drop-Ship, I give Dwyght a nod, the signal to turn a sharp left and hide behind the walls until the Reapers all follow me inside. Having no other options, he obeys, becoming shadow. My heels almost screech against the metal of the Drop-Ship door as I stop myself, trying to breathe, trying to make myself stand still and not run away like the terrified girl that I am. Because I am. This is insane. But still I have my feet planted, waiting for the Reapers. They have to see me to follow me in. It won't be much longer now, the cries are getting louder, closer.

And there they are, running like madmen through the woods ahead, a moment away from entering the camp. I wave my hands in the air.

''OVER HERE, MOTHERFUCKERS!''

They seem to almost stop a moment, a small pause, before they break into another sprint toward me and I know that this is it.

_One more moment. One more moment..._

_Now._

I run into the Drop-Ship with all the speed I can muster clambering for the ladder to get onto the middle level like my life depends on it, because it does, quite literally. The next thing I know, they're already inside, and one of them so close he almost grabs my leg to pull me down and the scare of it almost makes me slip off the ladder. But still I manage, hands sweaty, tumbling over onto the middle floor before they can follow. I seal the hatch right behind me and drop on it like I have zero energy left in me, like I am sucked dry for the rest of my life and would never re-charge again.

''Dwyght, now!!!!'' 

He should have done it by now, but I scream as loud as I can anyway. I don't think it's very loud since my lungs aren't working very well. But even if it was, he still probably wouldn't able to hear me from the outside. I just feel better calling out.

When I hear the sound of the Drop-Ship door closing and the noise of the Reapers that follows, and their scratching at the metal, I can physically feel the tension and exhaustion leaving my body, leaving me weak and completely limp on the floor.

_Breathe._

Giving myself one more lazy moment, I fumble back onto my feet and drag myself toward the opening in the wall, courtesy of Murphy. The irony of it almost makes me laugh. _Thank you, Murphy._

''Dwyght!'' I call out, ''Dwyght, I'm here!''

In another moment he's running toward me, a terrified look on his face.

''You're insane,'' he breathes, throwing up his hands, ''You're absolutely insane-! Are you insane?!''

''They'll be safe here, if they don't turn on each other,'' I breathe, one hand against the part of the blown-off wall.

'' _They_ will be safe?! They?!''

''Yes. Dwyght, we can't just kill every Reaper we see. Self-defense is one thing.''

''How is this any better?!''

''We can throw them food and water,'' I say, ''The drug will be leaving their system and once it does we can help them.''

''Not with everything else on our hands!''

''We can spare a couple of people. Now let me focus so I don't break something.''

Murphy didn't break anything when he jumped, and I myself had jumped off a tree that reached much higher than this level. I add it all up. _Leap off, twist, fall on side. Thigh and arm. Curl up and roll over. Okay, good._

What I realize is that - without some danger ushering you ahead - jumping and fighting isn't as easy. If I had the Reapers still behind me, I would have jumped off a million times by now without a thought. But now I have to stop and take a breath, make the decision consciously.

Then I jump.

I roll over like I planned, the pain of the fall still buzzing through my side but it's the good kind of pain - the kind that means a bruise or two, but nothing dislocated. Dwyght helps me back on my feet, before I try to dust myself off. I don't know why I bother.

''Now what?'' he asks.

''Now we see where our folks are.''

*

Without running, the trip back to where we left our people takes much, much longer. Neither of us has been aware of just how much ground we've covered running all the way here. It dawns on us as we drag ourselves back, exhausted. I don't know how good I am with keeping time by the sun and the moon, but my estimation is that it has to be 10 PM by the time we reach our destination. That means Monroe and the rest are a three hour walk ahead of us, and knowing Monroe, they won't be camping out tonight after everything that's happened. She'll push them onward. We walk those three hours anyway, but I'm not sure if pushing onward still is an option for us. I can follow their tracks, but we're beyond exhausted and what little energy the food and water provides isn't enough.

''We should probably rest a bit,'' I am the first to suggest, ''Monroe knows the way back from here, I don't worry about them. We, on the other hand, could get hurt at this point.''

Dwyght looks reluctant to agree, but he agrees nonetheless.

''I'm on first watch,'' he nods, as we settle among the trees, finding a secluded spot that would keep us away from even the eyes of the animals. I snuggle up in the grass, my head on my pack, and mumble a ''Wake me up in two hours,'' before sleep takes me, easier than ever.

Dwyght wakes me up in three. I know because even though it's still night when I rub the sleep out of my eyelids, the sky simply doesn't seem as black. The color of ink, maybe. We silently switch places, and sleep seems to take him before I can even sit upright against a tree.

The hours are slow to pass, mostly because I am fighting against myself to keep awake. In two hours, dawn starts to crack, and I have to wake the big bear of a man to continue our journey. We'll sleep when we're home, but first we have to get there.

We never catch up with Monroe and the crew. It's another long, full day until we reach Camp Jaha, but we're relieved to find that everyone's gotten back safely before us. Even the Tondc escort.

When I get to the gate, we're greeted with looks of worry, making me wonder about the state we're in and just how awful we must look. It's Bellamy that runs up first, wrapping his arms around me, and I think I can melt right into him, less out of a romantic reason and more out of the fact that I can barely stand and desperately need more sleep.

''I was worried,'' he mumbls into my hair before pulling back with his hands firmly planted on my arms, ''What were you thinking?!''

''Bell, can we not, I'm tired and I need to check with Abby-''

''Abby's pissed,'' he says, ''Well, she was anyway. Are you okay?'' he runs a hand down my hair.

''Yeah,'' I nod, ''Just tired.''

He nods back, pursing his lips in worry, before pressing them on mine, first gently, then with hunger. It takes all I have in me to pull away from him, but I have to talk to Abby first.

Dad should have been here to greet me, I realize. He would have met me at the gate. That's out of place.

''Where's my dad?'' I ask.

Bellamy's face turns grim, a small frown creasing his face the way it always does when he has to talk about something he doesn't particularly like. And in that moment I know something's wrong.

''Handcuffed,'' he finally says before I could reiterate the question, ''For the night.''

My hands on his sleeves grip tighter.

''What happened?''

His jaw clenches, his eyes flash with something else. His hand moves up to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing a line over my cheek.

''I had no idea who he was until it was all over,'' he says, almost apologetically, ''Your father, he almost beat him to a pulp-''

It doesn't exactly surprise me, even though Rick Parish is literally the most peaceful person I've ever known, not just in my life, but to ever exist. When it comes to me, though, a different person wakes inside of him, and takes over completely.

''God,'' I breathe, resting my forehead against Bellamy's chest. One of his arms snakes around my shoulders, the other one lets its hand settle into my hair, holding the base of my skull like I'm a baby. He kisses the top of my head, and it's the most comforting thing in the world.

''I almost killed him myself,'' I say, tired, ''I would have. He doesn't deserve to be here.''

''Trust me,'' Bellamy says, his words muffled by the way his lips still linger in my hair, ''He won't hurt anyone again.''

''You have so much to tell me,'' I pull back to meet his eyes, ''And I have stuff to share too. But I need to see Abby first. And my dad.''

''Abby's in the Council room,'' he only says, before my hands slip out of his.

*

''Abby-''

''I do not believe you,'' she turns around to face me, ''If it's not Raven, it's you-''

''Abby-''

''I appreciate your initiative, Tasha, but you know things can't go that way anymore!'' her eyebrows raise, ''I will not allow any one of you kids to do anything even remotely resembling this without my permission anymore, do you understand?!''

''Yes,'' I mutter, unhappily, ''I brought them back, didn't I?''

''And almost gotten eaten in the process. What were you thinking?!''

''I did what I had to do. The Reapers are in the Drop-Ship. We closed them off.''

''What-?''

''That way they're only a threat to each other until we can help them. There's seven of them in there.''

She closes her eyes for a second, takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of her nose. Her other hand rests on her hip. Exasperated.

''Alright,'' she says, eyes still resting, ''Jackson should handle that.''

''As for my father-''

''Rules are rules, Tasha,'' she meets my eyes now, looking sorry, ''I can't bend them for anyone now that we need order more than anything. It's only one night.''

''I understand,'' I nod, ''If we hadn't gotten held up, I would have stopped it.''

''As for Nichols,'' she takes another step toward me, placing a hand on my arm, ''You can be sure he won't try anything ever again,'' her eyes bore into mine, ''If he does, the next part's easy.''

''I know,'' I give her a tired smile, ''That's why I brought him back so easily. I trust you.''

She smiles back. ''Go see your dad. He's been worried sick.''

''Hey, Abby,'' I call back from the door, ''Tondc. What's our plan?''

She pauses a moment, as though deciding. Then she exhales, before a simple: ''Tomorrow.''

I don't press it. Too tired to argue, I nod and walk away in search of my dad.

My visit to him is short and consists of a hug and a few explanations. When he realizes just how tired I am, he sends me off to sleep, telling me we'll talk in the morning anyway. ''It's only one night,'' he repeats Abby's words. I leave him with a kiss on the cheek. I can't wait to drop on a cot.

I decide to find it in me to hold it off just a bit longer and go wash myself before sleep. And as I do, water dripping over every bruise and scratch on my body, I try to make a mental note of everyone I need to talk to tomorrow. Bellamy - I need to know everything that happened in Tondc in detail. Maybe I can get that story tonight before I drop unconscious. Then dad, probably. Raven - I have to settle things between us and see how she's doing. Monroe and Sean - I kind of left them with Reapers on my tail, running like a mad woman into the woods. And of course, Abby and Clarke - I need to know the plan in detail, finally. Maybe Bellamy knows enough he could share with me tonight too.

When I come to Bellamy's tent, I realize there won't be much talking tonight. His lips are on me in a moment, and they wouldn't leave me until we're peacefully and blissfully asleep. All I know is the feel of his skin against mine and his lips grazing all over, and the overwhelming familiar scent of him. Nothing else exists. No Grounders, no Reapers, no Mount Weather. Just a boy and a girl, naked and tangled together in between sheets.


	48. Chapter 48

The moment Bellamy recounts everything that happened in Tondc, I kiss him and get dressed in a hurry wanting to get to Raven as soon as I can. I feel horrible, like someone's clawing at my insides, and I realize God, I love this girl, I really do, and the next time someone hurts her, I will hurt them right back and ten times worse. And I feel so sorry, for what happened that day in the Drop-Ship, and everything afterward - she's gone through more than any of us, and I had pulled a gun on her when she was at her most desperate, and I know I wouldn't have hurt her and she wouldn't have hurt Murphy either but it still hurts like a bitch and I just want to talk to her. She's lost her everything, and suffered more on top of it, and I'm sure that if I didn't hate Lexa before I sure as hell hate her now.

When I get to medical, she's not there. Abby tells me she refused to use one of the beds and left the moment her cuts were closed. So I go to her little lab, knowing her, knowing the way she copes with things. She's working on the radios without rest, I can bet my life on it.

And I'm right. She looks a bit tired, weakened maybe, dark circles under her eyes. But she's still very focused on what she's doing, a single line of concentration creasing her forehead. She looks up only briefly when she hears me open the door, before her eyes fall back on whatever she's doing. She doesn't say anything.

''I heard what happened,'' I say, not sure what else I could start this conversation with, having not thought this through.

''Yeah, well, I'll live,'' she says, doing something with a screwdriver, not looking up.

''You okay?'' I don't move from the door, like my feet are planted.

''I will be,'' she says, still not looking up, and I understand I'm not her favorite person in the world, and I don't blame her at all, but I still don't want us to be like this. She stays silent a while, and I think that's about it. I'm ready to turn back around and walk out. But then she says:

''Are _you_ okay?'' Just one glance at me from the corners of her eyes, before they're back on her work. And it's more than I would have asked for.

''Yeah, I will be,'' I say. She nods.

''I'm sorry, Rey,'' I add, almost as an after-thought, but I'm glad it escapes my mouth.

''I'm sorry too,'' she says, and with that I leave her. It's a start, and I don't want to push her.

*

When I try to find dad, he's not in his tent, nor in Engineering, nor anywhere around camp that I can see. We must have somehow missed each other somewhere by a hair, so I go back to Engineering to look again but instead find him coming out of the Council Room. He's been arguing with Abby, I can see. I can't hear what they're saying at the door from this distance yet, but I can see her give him a few more words with re-assuring nods and a hand on his shoulder. Then she apparently tells him I'm here looking for him, because he turns around, and she leaves us in the hall with a smile my way.

''What was that about?'' I ask.

''Nothing,'' he gives a tired smile, ''Just making sure of some things.''

''Dad,'' I say, but it sounds like a warning. When he doesn't say anything, I persist. ''Abby has enough to deal with as it is, please don't push for things I already have under control.''

''I'm not,'' he says with a playful smile, as we walk along.

''And you better not try anything stupid again either,'' I say, ''Nichols is here now. And he won't try anything; if he does, he's out.''

''You ate?'' he only asks, sounding somehow too content and satisfied, like everything I've just said is silly empty words because he's the one that already has everything covered, and that subtle smugness honestly worries me a bit. But I leave it aside for now anyway.

''No, but I can't eat with you,'' I say, ''There's a lot of things to cover today. I just wanted to check on you, make sure everything's okay.''

He grabs a small bowl as we pass through the small kitchen corridor, puts some berries and nuts in it, then hands it to me. 

''Eating on your feet is bad for your stomach,'' he says to me, and it sounds so mundane and ridiculous in this world we live in now, that I could laugh, ''But as Reyes once said - Hurry up and save the world, right?''

''Right,'' I smile, ''I'll take some to her later.''

*

Munching on my snack, I decide to go check on our newcomers, see how they're fitting in. When I get to their part of the camp, I find they all look a bit lost still. Most have found tasks of their own, whereas the children are clustered together, timidly playing some game. Nichols is off with the rest of the guards - I saw him before getting here and he still had the decency to give me a sly look from the corners of his eyes. And I realized how strong I am now, when I made my boiling blood calm.

Sean can't shake off his role in his group, he's still acting like a mother hen around his people, though we're all one now. But when I find him an hour later behind the Ark, I'm surprised to find him with Bellamy.

''Hey there,'' I say, an amused frown on my face. They look up from the rifle to look at me, and I realize Bell's been giving him tips.

''Hey there,'' a subtle smile graces Bellamy's face, leaving the rifle in Sean's hands, ''You disappeared on me like a puff of smoke this morning.''

''Yeah, sorry about that,'' I say quietly, like it's too private for Sean's ears - and it is, everything we've been through, he has no idea what it's like, ''I just really had to talk to her.''

''How did it go?''

''Well, we _talked_ , for one. So at least the silent treatment is no more,'' I smile, ''I'm gonna bring her these,'' I suddenly feel so ridiculous with the damn bowl in my hands, it's almost funny, ''You want some? And I see you two have met!''

Bellamy takes another step toward me, puts one hand on my cheek and places a kiss above my brow. Sean must have thought the kiss would be much more intimate, because his eyes are looking through the scope of his rifle, suddenly even more focused on what he's doing.

''I was going to see her myself,'' Bell says, ''I figured we should give her some time first though. And Sean here's being recruited as a gunner,'' Bellamy grins at the new boy, ''Ain't that right?''

Sean gives a salute.

''You do realize the Guard's in charge of all of that now, right,'' I grin.

''In light of recent events, I'd rather not be trained by a guard for now,'' Sean says, still feeling up the rifle, fixing up his aim.

''Well, I hope you're not sneaking away guns because Byrne is gonna roast your asses.''

Bellamy huffs out a laugh, but instead says:

''Sean, you want some berries?''

''No, thanks,'' he's squinting with one eye on the scope, ''After eating rabbit for a month I kind of ate us out of house and home this morning. I still feel like I'm digesting rocks.''

''Take it easy there, gunner,'' I chuckle, ''I'm glad you're getting used to the place.''

''Yeah, Monroe showed me around,'' Sean smiles at me, ''It's insane everything you have here.''

''We have,'' I correct him, ''Well, I gotta go,'' I peck Bellamy's lips, ''Gonna try and look for Clarke. Someone's gonna fill me in on everything today or I swear to God-''

''Tasha, wait,'' he grabs my arm, something different flashes across his face, ''I'll fill you in. I told you I would.''

He's acting weird. Everyone's been acting a bit weird, now that I think about it, but even thinking about trying to figure it out gives me a headache right now.

''Alright,'' I drawl, uncertain, ''I won't look for Clarke. Is everything okay?''

''Yeah,'' he gives a sudden smile, and I know it's not exactly sincere, ''I'll tell you everything tonight. Okay?''

I frown. This makes me a bit uneasy.

''Okay.''

*

Bellamy's words and the way he acted leave me restless throughout the day. I don't see Clarke anywhere in camp either, and I assume she's doing business with the Grounders. I can't wait for the day to end so Bellamy can tell me what's going on. 

I spend some time training with Octavia, but my head's not into it, so it doesn't turn out very productive. Octavia told me to call it a day before I knock my own teeth out. So we called it a day. 

Come to think of it, even Octavia seemed weird around me. She has to know things, but it's like everyone's keeping everything from me on purpose right now. That thought makes me mad, hurt and afraid all at once. I can't focus on what I'm doing, which right now is watching the perimeter. 

Surprisingly, it didn't take too much convincing for Byrne to give me the shift among the guards. It's what I've been doing since we hit the ground after all, and I feel most in place here - keeping watch, a gun in hand. But now I'm restless. It's far more difficult scanning the woods around at night with so much light inside camp, and I am awfully aware that the moment is approaching of Bellamy finally filling me in on everything. I don't know why it makes me so nervous. But I just know I will hear something I won't like. Something's definitely going on.

I suddenly miss Finn. I miss being in his presence if not talking to him, because even sitting next to him could give me comfort. The feeling is almost physical, like a body part's been ripped away from me and I can't get used to its painful absence. And the worst thing about it is, it's so easy to forget he's gone when you go about your daily business around camp. There are ignorant moments in the day when I just half-expect to bump into him, coming out of his tent or leaving his gun in the armory. But then I realize the cruel joke and it's like a bullet right in the chest. He's not coming back. And now I think, wherever he is - if there even is a somewhere - I hope he's at peace, and I really hope we meet again.

And I miss Nathan. God, I could really use a grumpy comeback or two of his to settle my nerves. I could use the jokes that were always at my expense but I didn't mind, I could use a swing of moonshine he'd sneak in on the shift. I could use his silence. And as I think about this, I realize - he's gone, but he might come back. And that makes all the difference. It doesn't give me more hope, but it gives me more determination. 

Ironically, it's Nathan's father that takes over my shift, giving me a smile. We've barely exchanged a few words in all this time, but I wonder if I should tell him something. But what would I say? ''Hey, your son's a great guy. We're gonna get him out!'' If I was him and someone said that to me, I'd probably punch them. So I don't tell him anything. 

_He was - is - my friend. He watched my back. He kept me close. He shielded my weakness, shrugged off my tears. His was a silent comfort, an earned brotherhood, and vows of few words. His loyalties never waver, and I know he's fighting right now, pulling at his chains._

But yeah, I don't say anything.

*

''Bellamy-''

''There was a message from Jasper,'' he says immediately, the moment I step into his tent. He looks like he doesn't know what to do with his hands, so he just sits down, elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands around each other. I, on the other hand, forget to breathe for a second.

''What? And I only hear of this now?''

He can't hold eye-contact with me for too long at a time. And I don't know if in this moment I should be angry or ecstatic that Jasper is alive or just downright terrified.

''He thinks they don't have much more time,'' Bellamy goes on, ''So we need an inside man. Someone to lower their defenses.''

It should hit me immediately, but it doesn't. In feeling so much, the realization comes too slow to my brain. I'm about to ask him who will be the inside man when he says: 

''Lincoln's gonna help me through the Reaper tunnels.''

And then I really forget to breathe.

''What?'' I want to ask, but it's lower than a whisper.

''It's the only way,'' he stands up, takes one step toward me, looking like he's sorry for all the world, but I can't stop staring at him, mouth agape. I can't speak. I physically can't get myself to speak. My mind's a jumble until it's an empty blank. 

''Tasha,'' he calls, takes another step, and that seems to be what wakes me up.

''It's not a way,'' I find my voice, but it sounds hollow even to my ears, ''It's a suicide mission.''

''It's the only option we've got,'' he wants to persuade me, his hand reaching out for me. And I'm not sure I want him to touch me right now. From how I see it, I could either break down or lash out on him. I don't know if I'm hurt or angry, or if it's a mixture of both in equal measure. But I know I'm terrified.

I step back, away from him.

''Why you?'' I ask, but it's a low growl, and the sound of my own voice makes my anger prevail in the equation, and I bite back the tears quivering in the corner of my vision, ''Why is it always _you_?''

''Who else?'' he asks, but it's almost like a sigh of resignation. The look in his eyes is apologetic. And I realize I really want to slap it off of him.

''Of course, who else,'' I scoff, ''Always the scapegoat.''

''Tasha-''

''Well, I gotta tell ya,'' I step further back, my voice taunting now, biting, ''Clarke's really enjoying her commander role around here. You know what, I bet if she told you to jump into a fire right now, you'd do it,'' I stretch out a sarcastic smile that doesn't reach my eyes, my bitter words dripping with venom.

''Tasha!'' Bellamy calls after me, but I'm already out of the tent, storming off to I don't even know where. But I know I don't wanna fucking hear it, and I know I want to punch someone good. I know I want to scream, but I'd rather make someone else scream.


	49. Chapter 49

Bellamy doesn't run after me when I storm off, and it makes me think about how well he knows me. If he'd run after me, I'd really think less of him. But no, he knows me, and he leaves me be, and he knows I will need some time, and insisting on anything would only make everything worse. But I'm so angry. Good God, I've never been angrier in my life, and I can't sleep in my dad's tent because I wouldn't be able to stand his softness and kindness and I know he'll suffer my anger unfairly and I don't want that. So I go to Octavia's temporary tent of residence. Because I don't know where else to go.

''Hey,'' she says, a bit surprised to see me.

''O, can I sleep here with you tonight?''

''Uh, sure,'' she says and makes room.

But I don't sleep. I keep staring at the canvas above as she cleans her machete, and it's the only sound filling the small tent. I can tell she'd like to talk to me, but doesn't know how to put things. And I want to talk to her, ask her what she thinks about all this. It's her brother and Lincoln. Did she latch onto Clarke's throat the way I'm afraid I would if I saw her right now?

But I don't ask her about it. I keep staring at the damn tent canvas, focused on calming down. And I realize after a while that every time I start calming the anger, the hurt starts seeping in. So I decide, instead of calming down, to keep focused on staying angry. Better angry than hurt and terrified. Angry I can live with. Angry I have lived with. Angry makes me feel strong. Angry makes me feel like I'm not a victim.

''I'm going to Tondc tomorrow morning,'' she says after a while, her voice following the swoosh of the rock against her blade, ''Gonna escort Indra and her men back here. You wanna come?''

''I'm not sure what I want,'' I say, my eyes blank on the canvas. It's a lousy tent, the canvas so thin I can see the full moon through it. 

''Or you can stay here, if you want. My tent, I mean.''

''Thanks.''

She sighs and puts down her machete. ''You okay?'' she asks.

''No,'' I say, ''Yes. I have to be.''

''You can be not okay and still be strong, you know?'' she tilts her head, as though to come into my line of vision and make me look away from the damn moon, ''It's not mutually exclusive.''

''Are _you_ okay?'' I ask her instead.

''I don't even think I know what okay is,'' she raises her eyebrows, almost huffs out a laugh, ''But maybe that's good for me, you know. I won't miss what I've never had.''

I frown. She seems at peace with the fact at this point, but it's heartbreaking. I have been okay. I have been perfectly content and happy even. My life back on the Ark was all I could have asked for until a certain point. This girl - this warrior in front of me - lived under the damn floor. But look at her now.

''You will be okay though,'' I say, ''And happy. When all of this is done.''

I'm not just saying it, I really believe it. For some reason, I'm almost certain. This girl will make it out on top, struggle her way out of all of this. She gives me a small smile, and I can't tell if she believes me or not, but she doesn't want to go further into it.

After a while she lies down next to me, pulls the old coarse blanket over us, and says ''You'll be okay too'' instead of a ''Good night.'' I don't say anything back.

*

I think about all the ways I could pull all the hair out of Clarke's scalp. I fantasize about all the nasty things I want to say to her. Octavia's breaths are low and steady by now; she's firm asleep. I can't sleep. And the more I hold onto everything, the more anger dissipates and I want to cry. I want to be with Bellamy right now, sleep next to him. God knows another night isn't really guaranteed. But I'm here, stuck on everything and suffocating, trying not to be weak. I'm sure I can't and will not fall asleep. Until I do, somewhere before dawn. Sleep sneaks up on me.

When I wake up, Octavia's gone and I soon learn Clarke is too, gone to work on battle plans. One part of me is disappointed I didn't get to give her a piece of me, another is glad she's gone before I can cool down.

Octavia will be back in about four days, Grounders in tow. Clarke will probably stay behind with Lexa for a while yet. I see that Byrne's gone in Clarke's attendance too, so that's one less person on my ass. And as I get out of bed I doubt I'll be able to sit through another guard duty, and for a moment I regret not going with Octavia. But I know it's probably for the best. I'm just trying to avoid facing Bellamy anyway.

Even as I know our certain time together is limited and days numbered, I can't go face him right now. What do I tell him? I'm angry at him too.

So I decide to have the day away from him. He doesn't come insisting, knowing I'll come to him first. I silently appreciate it, even as I'm angry. 

But I know I can't stand anyone else either. I need to be alone, but since I can't, my options come down to Raven and Murphy. Ironically maybe, the two very opposites. Of course, I choose Raven. 

I bring us some food and we silently work half the day away. I mostly fetch things, help her around. We don't talk much, unless it's ''safe'' chat and work stuff. I'm grateful she doesn't tell me anything regarding Bellamy. And I'm very careful not to stumble upon anything connected to Finn. Wick comes in and out a few times, but is smart enough to leave us alone today. Our sour moods are beyond obvious, and he knows better.

The other half of the day I basically spend training. I don't have Octavia to practice hand-to-hand combat with, but I do excercises until my limbs quiver and my knees start giving in. I punch the stuffed bag behind the Ark until I look like I've just been swimming, my wet hair plastered to my face, dripping. And good God, does it help. It's the only thing that _does_ help right now. Bellamy comes to give me some water, and he doesn't say anything when I take it, and leaves me alone the minute I do. And I kick the punching bag off the damn hinge.

Once the sun's come down and I've washed, I report for guard duty. A late shift should be nice and lazy now that I'm exhausted, and I won't be eating myself up on the inside as I stand watch. It seems to work. A couple of hours after midnight, I'm ready to sleep like the dead.

And in that moment it feels like the hardest thing I've ever done when I walk past Bellamy's tent and into Octavia's. But it would have been even harder if I didn't.

*

The next day goes much the same. Working with Raven, food, training, food, shower, guard duty. I also get to check up on dad and Sean and I end up catching a shift with Dwyght on post, which cheers me up a bit. When it's time to go sleep though, I can't walk past Bellamy's tent again.

But I can't face him either.

After a deep, painful breath and a long moment of my feet planted on the ground and my hand frozen on the flap of Bellamy's tent, I finally manage to make myself move and step in.

He looks asleep. He's shirtless, and most of his torso uncovered seems to almost shimmer under the lights of the camp that insist on seeping in. I take my clothes off and climb in next to him. When I close my eyes though, his arm moves and wraps around me, pulling me into him, back to chest. Not quite asleep, but he doesn't say anything, and neither do I, and it's all I could have asked for. I'm comforted by the warmth of him as we drift off to sleep.

*

I make sure to wake up before Bellamy does. I'm still angry and I don't know what to say to him, and I know it's silly and ridiculous and that he's going to leave any day now - he's preparing every day. I should probably be using this time I have with him. But I can't stop being angry. I know that if I stop being angry, I will likely fall apart and let fear tear me down. I can't do that.

Change of plans today. After a breakfast with Raven in the lab, I grab my bow and quiver and set out to hunt. I don't think we need extra food, but I need the focus. Since I know no one's going to like my idea of setting out alone, I go ahead and try to find Monroe to invite her to come with me. I can't seem to find her though, and when I ask Sean he says he hasn't seen her since she woke up.

Screw it, I'm heading out alone. I just need to pack up a few supplies and I'm out before anyone can start nagging me.

When I go to the storage room to get some nice rope, I'm not surprised to find Murphy organizing the shelves, but I am a bit surprised to see him at all. He hasn't shown face in days, or at least we haven't crossed each other's paths somehow. The sight of him organizing the clutter and junk very surprisingly breaks my heart a bit. He seems miserable. A while ago I was cheering for miserable Murphy. A part of me still doesn't want to bridge that gap, but right now I'm so angry at everyone else there is no anger left for Murphy.

''Hey,'' he says almost awkwardly when he sees me enter, ''Need something?''

''You about done here?''

''Nope. Still got trash to sort out,'' he drawls, lightly kicking at an empty crate below and letting it slide across the floor to the other side. ''Why?''

''I was thinking if maybe you wanted to go hunting with me.''

He pauses, stops whatever he's doing, only to squint his eyes at me a bit. ''Why me?''

I shrug. ''I can't find Monroe anywhere.''

He huffs out a laugh. ''Substitute. Of course, makes sense.''

''Oh, don't be a baby, Murphy; you wanna come or not?''

''Trust me, I'd take anything over this, but I, uh- I have to do this.''

He's taking this second chance seriously, I realize. Even though he obviously hates it, hates everything about every single thing he does day in day out, he's still trying to earn what he's been given. And I find that I can respect that.

''Need help?'' I hear myself ask, without a prior thought, without an intention. I would much rather be hunting out there, but it literally escapes me, and so fluidly it's worrying.

''Nah,'' Murphy says, ''You go shoot at birds. You look like you need to shoot something.''

I frown. ''Damn. That obvious?''

''Boyfriend dearest off on a suicide mission - can't get any more Trouble in Paradise than that,'' he says, reaching for a shelf above him, and suddenly I'm so pissed I hope whatever's up there falls right on his damn head. But it's not Murphy's fault, and I know that too. 

''Shut up, Murphy,'' I say, but there's no usual vigor in it, no loud anger. I sound almost tired, and I think that's what makes him look back at me. I'm not up on his ass and that's gotta be weird.

''You alright?'' he asks, hands still reaching for a box above him.

''Yeah. Whatever,'' I shake my head, ''I'm gonna go shoot some birds.''

*

I enjoy the calm of tracking and watching, silently listening for prey. But when I hear someone walking up behind me and by every learned survival reflex turn around to shoot, I find Bellamy standing there, hands put up.

''Are you insane?!'' I screech, ''Can't walk into your death quickly enough?!''

''You shouldn't be out here alone,'' he only says.

''Why not?! We're in a truce with the Grounders, aren't we?!''

''You know a lot of things can happen out here, especially when you're alone.''

''Yeah, well, I'll try my luck,'' I shrug the pack on my back into a more comfortable position, before I resume walking ahead, ''You wanna help, keep up.''

He follows, drawing a knife.

We walk in silence for a while, and at times I'm almost able to tune out his presence. Almost. But after a short trek, he's finally tired of it, it seems.

''We need to talk,'' he says, but it sounds so soft I want to punch myself in the chest. I don't stop walking though.

''About what?''

''About this. What we're doing.''

''Hunting?''

He takes a short moment, and I could swear I could hear him huff out a bitter laugh. ''Don't play stupid.''

''Play stupid? I'm not playing stupid. Maybe I _am_ stupid. You know what, that would actually explain a lot of things! Because only someone stupid as _hell_ could allow certain things to happen; only someone seriously dumb as-''

I didn't hear him catch up with me, so it startles me a bit when he grabs my arm, turns me around. He stops my angry rambling with the fierce look in his eyes, hurt and anger mixed together. And I'm glad he stops me, because I was going to utter some pretty terrible things I definitely did not and do not mean.

''Don't do this,'' he says, his hand on my arm firm, his voice low and level, but the look in his eyes almost quivering, ''I know you're angry. But you need to stop.''

''Angry?! Damn right I'm fucking angry!'' I tear my arm away from his grip, ''I'm beyond pissed-''

''Well, I'm feeling pretty fucking angry myself! I'm fucking _angry_ that we have to do any of this in the first place; I'm _angry_ that we haven't been able to live since the day we fucking got here; I'm _angry_ that it's always _something_ trying to fucking kill us; I'm _ANGRY_ THAT WE'VE HAD TO SACRIFICE SO MANY OF OUR OWN TO EVEN GET WHERE WE ARE! I'M PRETTY _FUCKING_ ANGRY-!''

Bellamy doesn't usually yell, or at least not at me. But right now I can see the vein in his neck popping. And I know he's doing the same thing I am. Staying angry so he's not hurt or afraid. A breath hitches in my throat, and it's like he can sense it, it's like that's what makes him stop.

''This is not easy for me,'' he finally says, voice low and quiet again, a meek frown of apology creasing his face, ''None of this has been easy. And fighting with you least of all.''

''It sure as hell doesn't look that way from where I'm standing,'' I say, and even as I'm saying it I know that - Oh my God, I am so not fucking fair at all. I know I'm not. I'm being a bitch and I need to let up.

For a split-second his jaw sets and he opens his mouth like he has something else to say, but then he just lets his knife fall and clatter to the ground and he pushes me back against a tree, pressing me with his body, his mouth latching onto mine. One of his hands is on my neck, in my hair, and I can feel my blood swooshing to the top of my skull, my skin so hot it's electrifying. His other hand pushes up under my shirt. My hands snake around his neck instinctively, and I'm having trouble breathing. The weight and warmth of his body, the feel of his lips, his tongue sliding against mine, his calloused hands against my skin, even his very scent - it makes my blood roar and I can't hear my own thoughts. His hand glides over my waist and ribs up until he cups a breast, the sensation of his calloused fingers grazing over the rim of my bra making me moan involuntarily. I am nothing but electrifying sensation, every nerve under my skin lit up. 

But this is different. I know it as it's happening. The squeeze of his hands, the little whimpers I can barely catch - this is more than love or desire. This is pain. He's hurting. And the realization makes me pull away, the loss of him on me almost making me feel cold and exposed.

''Bellamy, wait,'' I say.

He's still breathing heavily as he steps back, his eyes finally showing the brokenness. My heart breaks at the sight. 

''This isn't the way,'' I say. Unfortunately, it's the truth. It won't fix anything.

''I can't leave like this,'' he says as he steps back, but it sounds like a sigh, like he's tired and resigned and heartbroken and needs this fixed before he can do anything else. And I decide to make a sacrifice.

''You won't,'' I say determinedly, stepping up to him and taking his hand and interlacing our fingers, though somewhere deep withing me, I still want to cry, ''Come on. Let's talk.''


	50. Chapter 50

Bellamy's hand in mine, we go to find ourselves a nice spot to sit and talk. There is a shrouded tree under which Bellamy sits, and I straddle him, arms around his neck instantly and my face buried in the nook of it. And we don't really talk at first. We just hold each other, his arms around my waist, and I lose myself in the warmth and scent of him. At times, my lips find the skin of his neck, and one of his hands sneaks under my shirt to caress my back. And I can never be angry when he holds me like this. So now's the hard part - not falling apart.

''I'm sorry,'' I mumble after a while, but I don't dare pull back or even cling onto him with any less fervor. 

''I'm sorry too,'' I hear him say, and I want to tell him he has nothing to apologize for but I can only shake my head against his shoulder. My throat's closed up and words wouldn't come out.

''I have to do this,'' he goes on, and I want to say ''I know'' but I can only nod.

''I want to promise you I'll come back, but you're the one person I can't promise anything I'm not sure of,'' he says, ''All I can promise you is I'll do my best.''

I take a deep breath. Now is the time to pull back and say something. Now is the time to suck it up.

So I pull back and meet his eyes.

''I know,'' I manage to say, swallow a lump, and continue on with more stability, ''You know it's what I like about you most. You've been completely straight-forward with me since day one, haven't you,'' I manage a smile.

''The Tasha I remember seemed to call it being an asshole,'' he smiles back.

''You and Raven are the two most straight-forward people I've ever known and yes, you're both assholes,'' I grin, ''And I love you both anyway.''

For a split second I realize I've just said the Big Three Words, but I don't panic over it, and it doesn't feel all that special and spectacular either. It's nothing I haven't felt all along, and it's nothing he didn't know already. It's the first time I say it to him though, and it's not exactly directly, so it makes me think that maybe it deserves a do-over. Maybe it deserves a Moment. Just me and him and some atmosphere very romantic perhaps and the big special ''I love you''.

But something makes me think that we might not get that chance and I am awfully aware that this isn't a hundred year old movie. There are no big moments in a life where every moment is survival. Me bringing Raven breakfast is ''I love you.'' Dad watching over me is ''I love you.'' Me and Nathan shielding each other in battle is ''I love you''. Bellamy willing to die for us all is ''I love you.'' And it's more than any words could ever express.

''The path is dangerous though,'' I continue right away, shaking my head into seriousness, sobering up, ''The Reaper tunnels?''

''It's the only way,'' he says, ''It's how they take them.''

''And when you get in - then what? Going by what Clarke's told us, you're just gonna end up in a cage like the rest of the Grounders!''

''I'll find a way-''

''Bellamy!'' I throw up my hands, eyes wide.

''Look, I'll have to!'' he grabs my wrists, ''This is bigger than me and you; I will find a way because I have to find a way. If I don't, all of our friends inside that mountain are dead.''

I get what he means. He'll die trying if need be, but he will find a way. Because everyone depends on him.

''You have to trust me,'' he says, his eyes boring into mine.

''I do,'' I say honestly, ''I trust you.''

''The hard part comes once I do infiltrate,'' he places his hands on my thighs now, ''Figuring out how to take down the acid fog. That's all Raven and Sinclair.''

''Well, damn,'' I mutter, more to myself, ''It falls to Raven to save us all again.''

Bellamy's hands on my thighs squeeze a bit, gently. ''Well, she's the genius; I'm just the jock,'' he jokes feebly, the smile on his face tired. The responsibilities on both of them are huge, I realize that; the strength in both of them more than I can put in words.

''I wish I could go with you,'' I say.

''I know,'' he rubs a thigh, ''Even if you could. Like you don't know I wouldn't let you in a million years.''

''Let me?'' I laugh, ''When did I ever need your permission, oh Rebel King?''

He chuckles, and the sound heals my soul. ''True enough, but I'd tie you down if I had to.''

''Now is not the time for your kinky suggestions, Bells,'' I smirk, to which he laughs again. 

This moment, what we have now - will we ever be able to have it for real? To have it for good? Just being together, and living instead of surviving? The sheer normality of it? I can't even imagine it now.

''Besides, I need you here with Octavia,'' he says, ''To watch each other's backs when I'm not around. Octavia, you and Lincoln are the only ones that can bridge the gap between us and the Grounders. You know that.''

''Sounds like you don't trust Clarke and Lexa enough to keep it afloat.''

''Clarke and Lexa are only two people,'' Bellamy reasons, ''Leaders, yes, but two, and not two of the common people. We'll need everyone to work together, and the trust isn't just gonna build itself because Lexa ordered it.''

I get what he means. Octavia's going to keep this alliance alive if anyone is, whereas me and Lincoln can only do so much all things considered. But even so; I do speak Trigedasleng well enough to get around, and I do understand their culture better than anyone back at camp, and I understand how I can be helpful back here. Octavia's going to need help and support once Indra comes back with her warriors. And likely someone to watch her back.

''When do you leave?''

''Tomorrow,'' he replies, ''Or the day after that. We had to take some time to think it all over and plan... And I wanted Lincoln to have a few more days to recover.''

''Okay,'' I nod, taking a deep breath, ''Okay. I'll get through this. Because I do trust you. I know you'll take down that fog. Because you have to. You don't have a choice.''

He smiles softly, moving his hand to my neck to cup my jaw.

''And when you do,'' I add, ''And we get those doors open, I'm personally getting you out if I have to.''

He gives me a look - not exactly a frown, but something creases his eyebrows even as his smile still lingers, and his eyes are so full of everything it's hard to pull out any one thing out of it. But he doesn't give me time to think before he pulls me into a kiss, gentle at first, then as eager as ever.

*

The next day I do not leave Bellamy's side for one moment. I'm there when he and Lincoln go over the plan all over again, filling in any possible gaps. I'm there when they train and Lincoln teaches him a few moves he could use once he's inside Mount Weather. I'm there when he goes over the other part of the plan with Raven. And hearing everything and putting it together myself, it puts me at ease a bit.

He wants to leave today, not wanting to waste any more time, but I manage to convince him to leave it for first light tomorrow, and Lincoln tells him it's better to travel the tunnels during the day. Reapers are even wilder at night, and might fuck up their plans altogether. So Bellamy obeys. And throughout the whole day, I am surprisingly fine.

Until night comes and I realize it might be our last night together.

We lie down in bed and suddenly something is pressing so hard against my chest I feel like I might suffocate. He senses it, because he turns my face around to kiss me. It's the only thing he can do; it's not like there's anything he can say. I kiss him back and climb on top of him, removing my clothes as I go.

His hands are roaming my naked body, and I do enjoy the feel of his calloused fingers running up and down my back as we kiss, so in that moment I don't really understand why I feel like crying. It's not really just a feeling either - it's started, actual tears behind my closed eyelids that I am trying to somehow push back with all my might. But I can't. One miserable tear escapes me, and I pull back, and he opens his eyes and I can literally see his heart break before he wipes the tear with a thumb. He doesn't say anything because - again - what is there to say? I place my hand over his and move my face into his palm so I can kiss it. Then I dive back down into a kiss on the lips, and I refuse to pull back this time. We make sweet love until sleep takes over us. Tears may have escaped me throughout.

*

We wake up early, with the first pink light of cracking dawn gracing the clear sky. I refuse to go back to sleep as Bellamy suggests, so I get dressed and follow him to where he's to meet up with Lincoln. Lincoln's already there in the designated room, a bunch of Grounder clothes in his arms and at his feet. The sight of them gives me a wild idea, but then I remember the silent promise I gave to Bellamy. I have to stay back with Octavia, watch her back the way he won't be able to. I have to honor that.

I go and grab us all some breakfast while Bellamy gets dressed, because there is no way in hell they're leaving on empty stomachs, especially since there's no telling when Bellamy might be able to get his hands on some food once inside. He won't be of any use to anyone half-dead. He protests a bit until I explain to him exactly that, then devours the double portion once he realizes the big picture.

I go and gear up myself. I decide to put on my own Grounder clothes, the ones Rand gave me. I haven't even looked at them since that day I took them off. It's strange, the way it almost feels like I'm putting on second skin. But there is something about it - the clothes, the armor, the warpaint, the drums, the cries. It stirs something within you and steers you onward. Grounders would know best.

I don't put them on just because I feel like it, however. I put them on because I'm intent on sending them off. Bellamy protested, but there's no discussion there. I'm walking him off until the last line. It's simple - Lincoln's going to bring Bellamy in, and I'm going to wait for him outside, and we'll walk back home together.

''You ready?'' Bellamy peeks into my tent once he's finished final preparations and saying his goodbyes.

''Yeah,'' I strap the quiver-full of arrows across my back.

''Let's go.''

*

It's more of a hike than a walk, filled with skulking through the growth. Keeping to cover seems smartest in a Reaper infested area. Though they mostly stay in their tunnels, it's not unusual for them to come out and lurk for prey outside, as I know first-hand. We stay alert though, and the hike is so far danger-free.

I don't know what Lincoln wants when he stops us with an arm keeping us back, but then he throws his spear and the next thing we know there's a dead deer on the pathway ahead, speared through and bleeding. Lincoln comes down, kneels before it, dips his hand into the blood before he smears it across his face. I shudder, remembering him on that parking lot, and the way his eyes looked dead as he stared at us through that car window, and the way I was ready to shoot him to save ourselves. Bellamy swallows, no doubt recalling the same memories.

''I need to know exactly what happens after the intake door,'' Bellamy says as we're back to our hike.

''They remove your clothes, blast you with boiling water, and douse you with something that burns even worse,'' Lincoln explains and I shudder again, ''From there, we were sorted. The others were tagged harvest. I was tagged Cerberus, turned into a Reaper.''

''Wait, wait, wait, wait, hold on,'' I stop walking, my heart thumping a little too hard, ''How do we know they won't just turn him into a Reaper?!''

''Calm down-,'' Bellamy starts.

''Calm down?!''

''There is a woman. Like... a doctor. Like Abby,'' Lincoln explains, ''She makes the decision.''

''How?''

''Vital signs,'' Bellamy suggests, ''A look-over. If they know what they're doing, she won't turn me down.''

Lincoln only nods in confirmation. And I find it in me to move again. It makes sense. She wouldn't turn down someone with the health of a person coming from the Ark. Once again, I have to trust it, going against fear.

''Cerberus,'' Bellamy speaks after a while of hiking in silence, ''Three-headed dog that guards the underworld.''

I smile at that despite all, but Lincoln gives him a questioning look.

''My mom read mythology to us all the time. Octavia loved it,'' Bell explains, before he says: ''You're good for her. You made her strong.''

''She was already strong,'' Lincoln replies. And I can only silently agree.

''Hey, I need to ask you something,'' Bellamy says again, ''You protected my sister before you even knew her. Why?''

''When I was a boy, I saw a ship fall from the sky like Raven's. The man inside was hurt, his body broken. I couldn't get him out.''

''Suicide by Earth,'' Bellamy and I say at the same time, then share a look of mild amusement.

''I heard the stories in the guard,'' Bellamy explains, ''I just didn't know they were true.''

''I'd heard rumors. When I asked mom about it, she just told me not to talk of such things,'' I say, remembering.

''Anyway, I brought him food, water,'' Lincoln goes on, ''I didn't speak the enemy's language yet. So I couldn't understand him, but I wanted to. So on the third day, I told my father. He made me kill him,'' he pauses, as though to digest that fact all over again, ''The world has been trying to turn me into a monster for as long as I can remember. Let's keep moving.''

It breaks my heart a bit.

''Wait,'' Bellamy says, ''Parking garage where we found you - it's north, that way.''

''There's a mine entrance closer to where the Reapers hand us over,'' Lincoln explains, ''We'll go into the underworld when we have to, not before.''

*

After a while we stop to rest. We've walked for hours now. Lincoln is preparing the pole he's going to tie Bellamy to, while I get some food out for all of us. Bell won't stop looking at that map of Mount Weather, like he hasn't memorized it entirely by now. I'll bet he's seeing it in his sleep.

We don't talk while we eat. The fear is gnawing at me, but I fight it. The concern is all over Bellamy's face, but he's fighting it too. I glance at him every once in a while to check on him, as though something would change, as though I could do anything. But looking at him gives me comfort. It doesn't sink in that this might be the last day I'm seeing his face. But I still look and admire. He's so beautiful. I love every inch of his skin, every freckle on his face. I inch closer to him. He gives a fleeting smile when our hips bump against each other, and I have to fight myself not to lay down my head on his shoulder. Now is not the time anymore.

''The mountain has many eyes between here and the tunnels,'' Lincoln says after a while, ''From now on, details must be exact.''

''What if we run into real Reapers?'' Bellamy asks, ''Won't they wonder where you've been?''

''All they see is the red. Once you take it, nothing else matters, just how you'll get more,'' Lincoln replies. 

''How much do you remember from when you were on it?'' Bellamy asks like he reads my mind. 

''Everything,'' Lincoln says. The realization makes my heart punch against my chest. 

It never once ocurred to me that Lincoln might remember things from his time on the drug. I just never considered it. And now that I know, just trying to comprehend the mere idea of living with those horrors - it's beyond me. How does he do it? How has he survived? It's terrible, and it's incomprehensible. But it also gives me some strange hope in a way - if Lincoln could come back from that, we can come back from anything.

''Time to move on,'' Lincoln grabs the pole before he motions for Bellamy, ''Turn around.''

He ties him to it and leads him ahead, and I follow tailing them, keeping to the shadows.

*

I follow them right to the entrance of the tunnel. We're all shaking in fear by the moment we reach it, and without goodbyes too long for the sake of all of us, I only kiss Bellamy and swallow back everything and step out of the way. His eyes linger on mine for a short moment, saying everything I already know. Lincoln takes a deep, shaky breath. 

''Come on, let's do this,'' Bellamy breathes. 

I step back and watch them walk into the darkness, until they're swallowed whole.

''May we meet again,'' I say. If there's no God, my words have fallen on deaf ears.


	51. Chapter 51

Lincoln told me he knows the way from this entrance best, that it wouldn't take them too long if no trouble should arise. He told me not to wait for him if he's not back even a few hours before sundown. But it's about to be sundown soon. And he still hasn't come back. And I can't keep still in these bushes, wanting to jump out of my skin. And I can't exactly just pace around as I please, with all the possible dangers around me. ''The Mountain has many eyes,'' the words ring and echo through my head. And a million scenarios play out over and over again.

The sun is getting lower in the sky. He should be back any moment now, but even as I prolong the wait, with every passing moment I know he's less likely to step out. The slow realization of it seizes my entire being, tries to get me into full panic mode. But I take deep breaths, try to focus on the most likely scenarios. The tunnels are a maze, it's not impossible that Lincoln took a wrong turn or two and had to go back. I decide not to consider them clashing with the Reapers - they look too much like ones not to be able to pass them. It's probably just the tunnels, I decide, but I still can't quite seem to breathe properly.

Another half an hour and I'm fed up with it. I jump down, looking around to make sure no one's watching me. I stand in front of the tunnel and stare, but I don't see anything through the pitch black darkness. And it's like the darkness is staring right back at me, like it's a living, breathing being of its own. It's almost oppressive.

I'm scared as shit, but I have to step in. What would I tell Octavia if I came back without him? I know she'd walk right in after me. I owe her. So I pull out a flashlight with a shaky, sweaty hand, but I don't dare turn it on and make myself a lighthouse. I take a deep breath and step in.

And one step in, I remember what Bellamy told me. I need you with Octavia. Watch each other's backs when I can't. You're the ones that will bridge the gap between our people.

And biting back a curse, asking some absent being for forgiveness, I step right out.

*

It's evening when I get back to camp, and I find that it now hosts new faces. There is already some training taking place in the yard, and I can recognize Indra where she stands, watching over. I immediately spot Octavia not too far away from her, and my mind already starts forming least painful explanations.

She sees me before I can take one step toward her, and rushes to meet me. ''Hey,'' she throws her arms around me, ''Everything good?''

''They're in,'' I nod, ''I waited for Lincoln but... He told me to go back home if he's not back by sundown, and I didn't want to go back without him, I was so worried something might have happened when he wasn't coming back and I wanted to walk in after them but it would have been my death, O, I wouldn't pass as a Reaper and-''

''No, it's good that you didn't,'' she stops me from rambling, one hand on my arm.

''God,'' I run a hand through my hair, ''The tunnels are probably just taking them longer, but I can't-,'' I choke up.

''They'll be alright,'' she says, like she knows, and I wonder how much she herself believes that.

''Yeah,'' I whisper. I find myself turning to this ever-absent God more often lately.

*

I grab a snack and some water when I go check on dad - he's probably worried sick. He's grown awfully fond of Bellamy too, and I know he's worrying about him as well. It doesn't seem to ease him too much when I tell him Bellamy's into the tunnels, and probably in the Mountain by now. The sudden realization of it - that Bellamy might very well be inside by now, going through the awful rite of passage - gives me goosebumps. I push away those thoughts. They're of no use to me. I need to be clear-headed now.

I kind of want to train outside with the Grounders, but even if the somehow exclusive circle would let me, I don't think I have the strength for it after today. I sit with Octavia outside for a while, and one of the Grounders - whose name I learn to be Drea - gives us a few tips. He's mostly talking to O as I watch them, a bit mesmerized. Drea seems as young as Bellamy, but his demeanour is also far kinder than that of most Grounders I've met. I remember a few things from the conversation, but mostly I just drift off, lulled into a waking dream by the fires flickering around us. I haven't realized how tired I am until now.

I spot Murphy across the camp, leaning against a shovel. He seems to make eye-contact, but it lasts only a moment. I frown. I don't know why I get up and follow him when I do. I don't really think.

He deposits the shovel in the storage room, and reaches for an old mop instead.

''Woah, do they let you rest sometime?'' I ask, leaning against the doorway, crossing my arms on my chest, ''How exactly did you end up slaving away?''

''When exactly did you end up best buddies with the Grounders?'' he asks instead, bitter. And it's exasperating, and I want to groan. I don't know why I came here, not after the day I've just had. I don't need this, any of it. He notices, and looks almost sorry because he knows what I'm going through. But almost, not quite. He still hates the Grounders too much to be sorry.

And then I realize for the first time what this means to him. Hell, I was there myself when they tortured him. And I didn't even see 2% of it. The horrors he went through were his to live with, and now he has to see them every time he steps out of his tent.

But he's not the only one. These people killed Finn. They may have ripped out John's fingernails, but they ripped out my very heart.

I choose to ignore Murphy's spite.

''So what happened?'' I ask, tired, ''It's obviously punishment. What did you do?''

He puts the mop in a bucket of water before he slides it across the floor.

''One of your buddies here started talking to me in that jibberish of theirs,'' he says as he cleans, not looking up, ''I told him I don't speak Grounder. Kane made me apologize when that pissed him off. Apparently, we're supposed to lick their boots now.''

I frown. ''Just that? That can't be it.''

''It's not,'' he says, ''He also told me I'll burn like Finn.''

That makes my insides suddenly twist and turn right upside down, and I want to retch. I'm physically sick. Finn is gone, but he is somehow still with me, and his memory is sacred to me, and I will shield it from all hate and filth with all my life. Because they may have killed him, but they will not mire the memory of him if I have to fight the world for it. And the mere insinuation that they will take any one of my own the way they did him - it boils my blood, it makes my skin crawl. It takes over me like a fever. But I swallow it all back.

''I hope at least you threw a good punch,'' I say.

He snickers. ''It's why I'm here.''

The sound of guns shooting booms through the air. I know they're out training, but I still react to it. John looks up and through the window.

''Save the bullets for the Grounders,'' he grumbles.

''John, just don't,'' I beg.

''I take it you don't approve,'' Jaha says, somehow appearing right behind me. I must be more tired than I'm aware knowing that I didn't hear him approach.

''I asked you a question,'' Jaha steps in when Murphy doesn't say anything, back to his cleaning. 

''Who cares what I think?''

''I do. Or I wouldn't have asked.''

''I think the Grounders can go to hell,'' John says to no one's surprise.

''I got you off work detail,'' Jaha says.

''Why?'' I ask instead of John.

''You both knew my son... And I wanted John to take me to his grave. Now that there's a truce, it's safe for me to go and say good-bye.''

''Well, then you can get someone else to take you,'' replies John.

''I'm told the graves are unmarked. You can show me which is his.''

Thinking of Wells does it for me. I feel nothing for Jaha, but I feel like I owe this much to Wells.

''You can hold the mop,'' he further tells John, before he pulls out a little present, ''Or you can hold the gun.''

''Save your bribes, Chancellor,'' I say, ''We'll take you to your son. Right, John?''

*

We walk in silence for a while, me keeping in line and next to Murphy the whole time. I don't know why I feel protective of him when he's around Jaha. It's like we're back on the Ark when Thelonius Jaha was the epitome of everything we hated. But we only hated him because he hurt us so deeply, hurt _him_. And some part of the old me still lingers and is still afraid Jaha will hurt him again when I'm not looking. Murphy and I could hate each other for all the world, but I would still not let that happen. We could be at each other's throats, but at the face of a bigger danger, we'd still protect each other. If I wasn't as tired as I am, that realization would have alarmed me at least a little bit.

''It's extraordinary, isn't it?'' Jaha says after a while, breaking the perfect silence. It's like for a moment I've almost forgotten he's even there.

''Oh, just give it a few days,'' John says, and I huff out a silent laugh. 

''I may not know everything that happened before I got down here, but I do know something about what you're feeling, son.''

'' _Don't_ call him that,'' I growl before I can stop myself. 

''Yeah, I'm nobody's son,'' John says, turning to Jaha, ''You made sure of that.''

''I remember your father,'' Jaha says.

''Yeah, right,'' scoffs John. 

''Alex Murphy... convicted of theft of rationed medicine. He stole it to take care of you. I remember them all.''

''Names,'' I say, ''You remember _names_ , Chancellor. Anyone can remember names and some info. But you don't remember anything he did past his crime. You don't remember the Alex Murphy that bought me a book for my thirteenth birthday when he could barely buy his family meals,'' tears come to the corners of my eyes as I say that - I'd almost forgotten that, ''You don't remember because you never knew him, any of them. And you never cared to.''

John's eyes meet mine for a moment, and his expression must be the same as my own. It's like I'm looking at a mirror. I know what he feels, what he thinks. And for that one single moment, the gap between us is non-existent.

''We're here,'' John finally announces then - I haven't even realized, ''Home sweet home.''

''Graveyard is this way,'' I say, taking the lead. 

*

John and I give Jaha some privacy as he mourns his son. I can tell he's crying even from this distance. It's fairly late now though, and I hope he'll be done soon so we can head back home. I want to sleep everything away for a few hours.

John and I don't say anything as we wait. He paces around a bit as I lean against the cold wall of the Drop-Ship. I don't know what I'd tell him, really. Somehow I know we both know everything that lies on each other's mind tonight. But breaking that ice and talking - that would be definite. That would mean forgiveness and closure and a bridge between us and that might be too much right now. Some other night perhaps, but not now.

The fact that a graveyard still remains is silly, because every inch of the ground we're walking right now is graveyard. The very soil is mixed with burnt bones. The days when this place was our home seem so distant now, an entirely different lifetime. It's hard to even imagine me and Monty in that corner over there, plucking the feathers off the birds we'd hunted. Or Finn and Clarke sitting in front of a fire opposite us, or Harper laughing at one of Jasper's silly stunts on the outposts. A different life.

''You about done?'' John steps toward Jaha and calls out, not quite nearing him.

''We should be heading back,'' I add, but with more tact. 

''How well did you know him?'' Jaha asks.

''Well enough to be hung for his murder,'' Murphy says, catching that look of shock on Jaha's face immediately, ''Clarke sugar-coated it for you, didn't she?''

''What happened to my son?''

''Twelve-year-old girl stabbed him in the neck with the knife she took from me.''

''Why would she do that?''

''She couldn't kill you. Yeah. So you got a lot of blood on your hands, Chancellor. Every single one of them, including your son, would still be alive if you hadn't sent us down here.''

''If I didn't send you, they would have died on the Ark with the rest of us, and we would have never known that Earth was survivable. Their sacrifice is why we are here. Good can come out of even the darkest acts, John,'' Jaha says, standing up, and walking away.

''Camp You is that way,'' John points west, and I can't help the chuckle that escapes me.

''We'll rest at the dropship for a while,'' Jaha says.

''Suit yourself,'' I grumble, taking the pack off my back and stepping in, ''It's raining anyway.''

*

Jaha opens up his pack, pulls out some of his snacks. Protein bars, I realize. He offers, but John declines. He's sitting so close next to me, and I wonder if this closeness between us is subconscious tonight. Instinctive.

''You sure? You must be hungry,'' Jaha says.

''No one gives anything without expecting something in return.''

I reach out and take one of the bars, then split it in two halves and offer one to John. Reluctantly, he pauses for a split-second and meets my eyes, before he takes it. He knows I expect nothing in return. 

''That's a cynical way to go through life, John,'' Jaha says in that patronizing tone of his that goes on my last damn nerve. I take a bite, munching on it as loud as I can. This man better stop talking soon.

''You pull me off work detail, you offer me food,'' John says, ''Why are you being so nice to me?''

''Everyone deserves a second chance. That's why we sent the hundred to the Earth in the first place.''

''What a load of crap. You didn't give a damn about us. You still don't. That's why you're not fighting for those kids in Mount Weather.''

''I have to think of everyone. I know you don't want to hear this, but sometimes you have to sacrifice a few to save the many. Like I said, good can come out of even the darkest acts.''

''Then you can take it from me that no good has come from any of this. I was pardoned, slate wiped clean,'' says John, ''I'm still treated like dirt.''

Our eyes meet again for a split-second before he tears them away. I recognize his words for the truth. It breaks my heart a bit, but I also know that it's not like everyone can just forget about the past like it never happened. Unfortunately, that's not how humans work. And maybe it's for the best, no matter how it makes us suffer.

''You made mistakes. So have I.''

''Well, I'm nothing like you, Chancellor.''

''No? We both should've died several times over. We both have suffered at the hands of the Grounders. We both have been betrayed and imprisoned by our own people.''

''So there's no place for either of us, then. Great. Thought you were supposed to be inspiring.''

''There is a place for all of us,'' Jaha says, ''When I first landed on the Earth, I met a woman who spoke of a place beyond the dead zone, a place where everyone is accepted... a City of Light.''

''Sounds like a fairy-tale,'' I say. 

''Or a second chance,'' Jaha corrects me.

''You don't even know if it's real,'' John scowls.

''You're right, I don't. But I believe.''

''Wow,'' I say.

''Ok, well, that's good for you, Chancellor,'' John said, patting and adjusting his pack to lay his head down on, ''Very good.''

''I'm gonna find it,'' Jaha says, ''And once I do, I'm gonna come back and lead my people home.''

''Send a letter via pigeon maybe,'' I suggest under my breath as I lay down, and I can hear John snort in a short chuckle.

*

I wake up to early morning light seeping through and the quiet chatter of people outside. The realization makes me sit up with a start. Who is that? What's going on? John follows in exactly the same manner, before we get on out feet and step outside.

''What the hell is this?'' John asks the moment our eyes fall on the group of people in front of us, all armed. I recognize Ringer among them, and he's not the only guard either.

''We're going to the City of Light,'' Jaha replies.

''You're going now?'' I ask incredulously.

''There's a million ways to die out there,'' John adds.

''Well, if it's not your time, nothing can kill you, but if it is your time, it only takes one,'' Jaha says.

''Right. You even have a map?'' John asks. 

''No.''

''Then how do you know where you're going?''

''We don't, but I will not be ruled by fear. You want to stop being treated like a criminal, then you have to stop thinking that that's all you are,'' Jaha says, ''Take this leap of faith with me, John Murphy, and let me show you there's so much more for you than this.''

He's talking to John Murphy only, I realize. He's _been_ talking to him ever since he came to the storage room. He's planned this all along, and he knows I wouldn't go. He knows I have too much to leave behind - Bellamy and my friends in the mountain, my dad, Octavia. He is a smart, calculating man, and he's targeted every vulnerable person he could find.

John doesn't have to tell me for me to know he's tempted to go. He doesn't even have to look at me. It's not like he has anything to lose, except the head he's carrying.

The air is still damp from the overnight rain. I hate the way it seems to stick to my lungs, making it harder to breathe.

John turns around for the first time to meet me, and his eyes communicate it all. He doesn't need to say it. I'm not surprised. But I am surprised when he takes one step toward me, grabs my wrist, and leads us just a couple of feet away, where the rest can't hear us. Not that they would, they all seem immersed in their own quiet conversations, and Jaha's turned his back to us now, as though to give us privacy for our goodbyes. Like he knows already John will step away and join them.

John wants to tell me something here, but it's my voice that sounds first, croaking a bit.

''You're going.''

''I have nothing to stay to.''

''You might die out there.''

''I told you I'd rather die than shovel shit for the rest of my life,'' he gives just the smallest hint of a smile, barely noticeable.

''Go then,'' I say, ''Try not to die.''

''I can't just go.''

''Without goodbyes?''

''Without apologies.''

Well, I didn't exactly expect that. But then again, last night I thought I was just escorting Jaha to his son's grave. A lot can change overnight, apparently. A world entire.

''Don't apologize just 'cause you feel like you owe it to me-''

''I do owe it to you,'' he says, ''But it's not just because of that. I really am sorry. I've been too much of an ass to admit it. But I am.''

''I know,'' I say, ''I've known all along. I just wanted you to say it.''

One corner of his mouth quirks up again, like a brief twitch.

''We really fucked up, didn't we?''

''Big time,'' I nod, grinning.

He turns to walk away before he stops, as though remembering something, then faces me again.

''Also, since I might die in the desert,'' he says, then looks at the ground as though to collect his thoughts, ''I never stopped caring about you.''

He says that while looking me right in the eyes without an ounce of uncertainty. Since he might very well die out there, he no longer cares what it comes out like, or what my reaction might be.

''So I'm sorry about every time I put you in harm's way,'' he adds, ''They tore off my damn fingernails and all I could think about was you. Not letting them get to you. I could care less about the rest.''

Oh, no. Something's opening inside of me. I have no room left for any of this. I take a deep breath, try to swallow everything back. I want to say something, but I'm afraid my voice will crack and betray me. So when I stay silent for too long, he just goes on.

''I'm sorry for when I got you sick. I'm sorry for every time I straight up hurt you, and every time I hurt you by hurting those you love.''

I swallow again. Somewhere behind that lump that keeps rising in my throat is a bout of tears dying to seep out of me. I won't let it.

''But most of all, probably, I'm sorry I never thanked you for everything you did,'' he stares at the ground now, swallows a lump of his own, ''When dad died, and for mom. And when you came to the Skybox every week... I never thanked you. For being there, you know. Making my life just a little less miserable.''

I can't help it anymore. The tears are silently streaming down the sides of my cheeks, and I have no control of them whatsoever. My chest feels like it will explode.

''And I'm sorry I wasn't there for you the same way,'' he's still looking down, ''Shit, I never deserved you.''

Just because I can't say anything and for no other reason - I step forward and wrap my arms around his waist. It's the only reply I can give right now. He freezes for a moment, uncertain, before his arms go around me as well. He doesn't hold me as firmly as I do him. It's like he's uncertain even now whether I want him to put his arms around me, or whether he's not even sure anymore how this is supposed to go. And I think about when might be the last time someone's touched him - just touched him without wanting to hurt him - and the realization makes me really cry now.

When he realizes I'm crying, his hands go firmer around me. And it takes me back to the night Finn died. I can't break down the same way though, and after a few seconds, I swallow it all, pull back, and wipe my cheeks. I can see tears in his eyes as well, but he's trained himself so well that none leave his eyelids.

''Please, don't die,'' I say. 

He laughs, before he gives a nod. ''I'll try.''

I step forward again, and almost tiptoe to place a kiss on his cheek. He's the closest he's ever been to breaking, but he manages to fight off the tears again. He nods, puts a strand of my hair behind my ear.

''Get those kids out of Mount Weather,'' he says, ''And kick everyone's asses.''

''I'll make sure I do,'' I somehow manage a smile.

''May we meet again.''

''May we meet again.''

John walks off toward the rising sun and all I can think about is how one by one, everyone is leaving me. And if he ever comes back, I'll wait for him with arms open wide, and some room in my heart perhaps.


	52. Chapter 52

''Where have _you_ been?'' Octavia walks up to me the moment she sees me back in camp.

''Long story, one I was just going to recap to Abby. You know where she is? Also, who beat the crap out of _you_?'' I stop in my tracks. She definitely looks like she's seen better days.

''Long story,'' she only waves off, ''Abby's in Tondc with Clarke, you know that.''

''Oh,'' I frown. Did she go? Of course she would. I should have guessed if not known. 

But I need to tell her that we're at least twenty guns short as of this morning.

I mumble a quick ''thanks'' before moving on, to inform someone of the atrocity that somehow took place this morning, but Octavia stops me, grabs my arm. 

''Hey, you okay?'' she asks.

''Yeah,'' I say, almost wave it off; though I don't know exactly how true that is. I'd say I feel okay, but there has to be some sort of difference between ''at peace with facts'' and ''okay''.

''Good,'' she nods, something fierce flashing across her green eyes. Even battered and bruised, Octavia's beauty radiates right through it all. For a moment I wonder if she takes it after her mother or her father. Bellamy is handsome, but they don't look too much alike, besides their dark hair.

I nod back, hoping I'm matching her determination and fierceness. She has even more at stake than I do, and she looks just about as strong as I've always imagined a warrior should be. I know I'm far from where she is, but I figure it's fake it 'til I make it. Maybe if I look like I have it all together, I eventually will. Maybe if I look like I have the courage to go against an entire Tri Kru squad of finest warriors, maybe I actually will.

I find David Miller and inform him about the stunt Jaha pulled. He's one of the guards in charge of weapons and over-looking the armory, and I figure he'll be the first to inform Abby the moment she's back, if I'm not. 

After that, I haul ass to Raven's. I quite literally drag myself across the halls, and it becomes increasingly more difficult for me to keep the warrior facade the closer I get to her door. I'm terrified of the answer she'll give me.

''Anything?'' I ask the moment I step in.

''No,'' she says with a shake of her head, her frown of concentration ever-present.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep, shaky breath. When I open them again, my facade is back up.

''It's too early to expect anything, really,'' Raven says - she's not comforting me, she's just saying it as it is. And I know it's the truth. But whatever the outcome turns out to be, the waiting is the worst. And it's going to be progressively worse.

''I think it's safe to say he's in by now, though,'' I say, ''So we have to be ready.''

''Don't worry, I'm not leaving the radio.''

''I know.''

She finally looks up to meet my eyes, and gives me the smallest smile. I smile back, equally small and fleeting.

The moment I step back out into the hall, it's dad that's striding up to meet me, but he doesn't seem exactly ecstatic.

''Where have you been?!''

''It's a long story, I-''

''I've had to literally re-trace your steps on camp going from Octavia to the guards to Raven-,'' he flails his hands about, ''You can't just be disappearing like that!!!!''

''Dad-''

''No, you listen to me!!'' he grabs my arms now, looks me dead in the eyes, and I'd say he's angry if his eyes weren't glistening the way they always did when he was afraid, ''I don't care where you need to go, or what you need to do, but you're going to tell me. I've learned by now that I can't stop you, but the least you can do is _tell me_.''

Well, now I feel terrible. He's right. I owe him that much. It's enough that he as a parent has to let me be in dangerous situations all the time as much as he hates it. Without me making it even worse.

''I'm sorry,'' I say, ''And I didn't mean to stay out for the night, it just happened-''

''Those kids in Mount Weather?'' he shakes me once by the arms, ''Going out there alone, you could have joined them for all I knew.''

''Dad, they're not gonna take any more of our people, I promise you,'' I huff out a feeble laugh before hugging him, ''Least of all me, trust me.''

His arms around me tighten, before he pulls back. His hand on my arm is gentle now.

''You're strong, I know that,'' dad says, ''But- You seen those Grounders? Even the strongest of their warriors is not so strong by himself. Don't be building up walls quite so fast, sweetheart. You're not so alone just yet.''

But at this rate, I will be. Everyone I love either dies or leaves, and on some level I'm not quite conscious of yet, I know I'm terrified it won't stop. But I don't say it, of course.

''I know,'' I nod instead, ''I know, dad; I'm sorry. From now on, I'll keep you in the loop,'' I smile.

He smiles back before he leads us to the bar area. My stomach rumbling reminds me I'm hungry, so I let dad pick our modest meals and I tell him everything that's happened.

This - making him think he can still take care of me, making him feel involved in everything - it's my only way of protecting him right now.

*

The days pass slower than ever before. I feel like the sun is dragging itself across the sky at its slowest just to torment me. Isn't winter supposed to be coming? When I needed daylight, I seemed to lose it before I could blink. Now that I actually need time to go by faster, the sun lingers like it's mocking me. 

I don't even know what I do around camp most of the time. Octavia's managed to put me in training with the Grounders now that she's Indra's second, but when I'm not getting my ass kicked, I'm sitting with Raven staring at the radio trying not to chew my fingernails and getting on Raven's every last damn nerve. She's under enough pressure as it is without me actually being a nervous wreck while looking all too suspiciously calm on the outside. And it's not like I'm magically going to summon Bellamy to the radio by just being there ready to pick up.

If he's even inside, and not a Reaper somewhere. The mere thought of it is like a knife to my spine. My mind is cruel and conjures up an image of Bellamy with dead eyes and blood dripping down his mouth as he's staggering toward me with intention to kill. I shudder and shake my head and the image disappears, but the uneasy feeling stays with me.

No, he's in. He has to be. He would find a damn way even if it killed him.

Killed him - what if they have? That I honestly can't even fathom. Oh, I can picture it, but it's just that - a picture. The reality of it, of him being gone and not in this world - that is something my brain can't comprehend in the slightest. It's not an option.

It's only day three, though. With all the complications that could have happened, it could still be early. Or at least it's what I tell myself. God, whatever the fuck Clarke's doing with Lexa right now, it better be damn good.

Training with the Tri Kru is ruthless. It's only been three days and getting out of bed in the morning is now a labor. I already have my fair share of bruises that are going to linger for a good while this time around. I know now how much care Octavia took when we trained not to hurt me too bad but still teach me a thing or two. The Grounders are not like that - they don't hold back the way she did. But I learn better. Oh, boy, do I learn. One smack across the face from Fio, and you'll learn to see the next one coming, because you're not going to let that fist float you into outer space again.

I only see Octavia briefly, a couple of times a day. She's constantly with Indra, or in Indra's inner circle, being trained the way a second should be trained, I suppose. But I don't particularly like having her too far away from us, from me. I feel it a duty to keep my eye on her now, for Bellamy, even though it's absolutely fucking absurd. That girl doesn't need me, and she can damn well take care of herself. But it's Bellamy's sister. A part of him that lingers here.

The Grounders are not all so scary once you earn their respect, it seems. I mean, not everyone's a Rand or a Lincoln, or even a Nyko, but it has quite frankly surprised me how kind they can all generally be, in their own way, once you gain some respect and trust. They're a hard people, but they're not the boogeymen they once seemed. Not anymore, at least. Fio or Drea kick my ass into next week, but then they offer me a hand up and pull me to my feet. 

Indra herself is quick to slit your throat, but if she sees worth in your eyes, she's quick to pull the knife right back too, apparently. And If she's training Octavia, then Octavia's in good hands, I know that. But as Bellamy said, it will take time. The trust doesn't just build itself because someone ordered it. I will take time to trust them. But to even start forming any trust, you have to put your ass on the line and take some risks. Which is what I'm trying to do. Which is what Octavia's been doing for what seems a long time now.

*

Dawn hasn't even cracked when Octavia comes to wake me and ask me to come with them to escort Clarke and Abby back to camp as additional back-up. They're about to start on their way from Tondc, and Indra has selected a group of guerilla scouts and security already. Octavia's vouched for a spot for me, as she says. She knows me well enough to know that being out there in possibly immediate danger is less torture than sitting here waiting for a sign from Bellamy. For that, I'm beyond thankful. 

But the thought of Clarke makes rage take over me all over again. I contain it though, and take the proposition. Being out there will at least make me feel like I'm actually doing something, if nothing else. So I gear up as quickly as I can before we're out the gates. 

This time, I tell my dad where I'm going. To say he doesn't like it would be an understatement, but he doesn't say anything except to take care. I know what kind of sacrifice he's constantly making, and I hope he knows I'm grateful for that.

*

We encounter no danger on our way to Clarke and Abby. No Mountain Men, and no sign of them either. I do find some tracks, but that doesn't tell us much. I can tell Indra doesn't particularly like me or the fact that I'm here, but the realization that I'm actually a decent tracker seems to get me closer to her good books. Not that I care what she thinks of me, all I want is their training. All I want is to become as strong and as skillful and ready to clear my way to Bellamy if need be. But I'm a long way from that yet.

We don't really rest, and Indra's made us become one with the growth. The trees and bushes and the tall grass are our shields, our armor, our clothes, our very skin. At first, it's exhausting, but with time you're so immersed you forget yourself. You're no longer you, but a part of a larger body that exists beyond you. The focus becomes instinctive.

We meet up with our people and some of Tri Kru in escort in a shrouded place near Tondc. Everyone seems to greet each other, even the distrustful ones yet. Octavia gives Clarke a half-hug, but all I can do is look at her before stepping over to Abby. Clarke gives me an apologetic look, like she's using her eyes to say she's sorry. I do not care for her apologies right now. I don't say a word to her. Which is far better than the alternative. Instead I use the time to fill Abby in on everything that's happened, and the poor woman has so much on her mind she can barely make room for being mildly shocked.

Indra lays out the plan and her orders, and we soon leave them again. We're supposed to be secret escort after all, covering them with stealth. It doesn't take a genius to know that both Lexa and Clarke are extremely valuable, to whomever. If the Mountain Men have an ounce of brain - which they do - they know it too. And the Mountain has many eyes.

Indra lets me and Drea take point. Both being good trackers, and both being archers, it's best that we scout first. Drea has to be at least a year younger than me, but it's facinating how eerily silent and focused he gets, how ready to fight in an instant. They are trained since childhood, after all. Indra and Octavia are behind us, whereas Fio and the rest of the crew take the rear.

The first portion of the way back is uneventful, as expected, though we do stay alert just in case. No Mountain Man is stupid enough to come this close to Tondc. We only get some rest when Abby insists they take a short break, and even then we keep scouting around. The only break I get, I use to get some food and water in me. 

Drea produces some bagel out of his pack, which looks like small-sized bread, before he breaks it in two and offers one of the halves to me. We have barely exchanged a couple of sentences, me and this boy, and yet here he is, sharing his bread with me. I pause for a second to fully comprehend it, because this seems important for some reason, and it's confirmed to me by the way Octavia looks on with a small smile lingering on her face, and the way Indra glances at us. I gulp, and take my half of the bread.

''Mochof ( _Thank you_ ),'' I say with a respectful nod. Drea barely nods back, before taking a bite.

*

At night, we rest for barely over an hour. No one wants to waste time and no one wants to linger outside under the cover of night any more than necessary. We barely get to close our eyes, and even if I wanted to, I couldn't possibly. 

I use the time to count my arrows and check my gear. I tighten my side-braids and curse at myself for only braiding two on my left side before we set out because there's too much loose hair going on now. I manage to secure it behind my head though. Octavia surprises me when she pulls out a small container with their warpaint and with a finger paints a horizontal line below each of my eyes that reaches my temples. For a moment I wonder what John would think of this, of the way I must look.

''Now you're all set,'' she smiles.

''I'm so glad I have someone to do make-up with,'' I joke dramatically, and she grins wide, and for a moment I see the Octavia I first met that loved nothing more than to play with butterflies and explore the unknown realm of the trees. Then Indra calls us back on our feet and that Octavia's gone in a blink of an eye. 

*

It's once we're far outside Tondc territory that our nerves get back on egde. This is where we have to be at our most alert. Indra sends me and Drea further ahead with Octavia tailing us, and generally puts more distance between all of us so we can cover more ground. 

There's not a cloud in the damn sky, as if on purpose. We keep low and we keep to shadows, Drea first, me behind him, and Octavia a safe distance behind me. I feel more confident when she's close, watching my back.

''Higher ground,'' Octavia says, and she doesn't need to say more. We know what it means. Higher ground, higher danger. Perfect for someone with a gun pointed at the road below, certainly. Chances are - if our enemies are outside at all - they are here somewhere, concealed.

Suddenly, I'm not eager to take point with Drea. If there's Mountain Men, they have guns, and all the best kind. A Grounder won't touch a firearm, but I find myself wishing for that M16 that served me so damn well in the past. Because I doubt an arrow will fly faster than a bullet. Grounders may be the better warriors but in some aspects they're undeniably behind us. And I'm not eager to catch a bullet.

But what doesn't kill me makes me stronger, and that's why I'm here in the first place. I just hope it doesn't kill me. 

I'm not stupid to not be aware of how far behind everyone I am when it comes to any of the skills a warrior needs. But this is how you learn. By risking your neck. So I take a deep, sharp breath and suck it up. And we keep on.

The hillside is treacherous. It's vast and it could conceal anything. When we split up and Octavia sends me a level higher, onto the rockside above them, I'm nervous to be alone.

But after less than a mile we find what we never wanted to find. And I don't even see it at first, the Mountain Men are so well concealed in the camouflage of the growth and the rocks, it betrays my very eyes. And in any other situation, it could have been the death of me, but I don't have time to be angry at myself now and I'll have plenty of time later. It's Drea that gives me a sign, keeping low in the bushes below me. 

He motions toward the bushes among the rocks at the edge of the cliffside, and sure enough I see it now. Two of them, snipers. And Drea wants me to take a shot. I'm reluctant to until I see one of them aim at our party below. And when I realize it, in less than a split-second, in a surge of sudden panic, I pull that arrow and release it before I can blink, let alone think.

The sniper's dead, but the bullet's gone off. I don't even watch for the guy on the scope, all I want to know is if anyone caught that bullet - the bullet I was fucking expected to stop. 

Then it all happens so fast - Octavia is running toward the man from one side, Indra and the rest from the other, and he has nowhere to run. I hastily clamber down the rocks, and by the time my feet hit the ground and I stand up straight, Octavia already has her machete against the Mountain Man's covered neck.

''Finish it!'' Indra commands.

And she's going to, but the next thing we know Clarke is riding in with the rest, shouting ''Octavia, no!''

Everyone in Indra's crew looks up in question, but I already know why.

''He's from Mount Weather, we need to keep him alive,'' Clarke says, ''Check to see if he's got a patch kit. We've got to get him back to camp.''

''It burns,'' the man keeps crying, and it's obvious Octavia's damaged his suit, ''Please, please!''

''Octavia,'' I call, tossing her the Mountain Men's pack lying right at my arm's reach. She catches it effortlessly and starts digging right through. What she pulls out, though, is a photograph.

"What is that?" Clarke asks.

''Clarke,'' Octavia says, showing the photo, ''You and Lexa were the targets."

''We have to warn the commander,'' Indra says, ''Sen op oso mou snap hosa gon Tondisi. Nau! ( _Send our fastest rider to Tondc, now!_ )''

In less than a second, a rider gallops away. 

Clarke could have died just now. And she would have if I hadn't stopped it, but the way I did it - so bloody sloppy - she could have very well died because of me too. Now is the time to be angry at myself.

I reach down and pick up the sniper still lying an inch from the dead man's hands. With one foot I turn him out of my way, and pack up the gun. Tri Kru offended or not, we're going to need this baby. I'm taking it back to camp.

*

''You laik pis ( _You are angry_ ),'' Indra tells me as we walk, ''Em na frag yu op ( _It will kill you._ )''

This is the first time she's spoken to me directly, ever. Unless you don't count the general orders for everyone in the crew, which I don't. So I'm thrown aback when she speaks to me and it takes a moment for me to catch up. And really, what do I tell her?

''Ai na dig au. ( _I will learn._ ) Ai souda. ( _I have to._ ) Ai no laik kom nau chon ai gaf in bilaik na kik thru. ( _I am not yet who I need to be to survive._ )'' The words find themselves, and I don't even have it in me to hope they're the right ones.

''Ge yo ogud den, Skai gada ( _Be ready then, Sky girl_ ),'' she says, ''Or go home while you can.''

When she walks ahead and leaves me with that, I know that I now want this the way I never even considered. Just to prove her wrong, to prove that I can. I will train harder, become better. And protect those I love from warriors like her and cowering rats in hazmat suits like the Mountain Men.


	53. Chapter 53

The Grounder that took the bullet meant for Clarke died. I didn't know his name. It's strange how his fate resided in the hands of someone who never even knew his name. Both Emerson and me. I try to tell myself that I did good, that I've saved Clarke's life. But somehow, it feels like a hollow victory. I need to do better.

Emerson they put in an airlock. Catching him was a good call; we really might get something out of this guy once he wakes up. I can't be dealing with any of that right now, however. Octavia and I are sitting in Raven's workshop, over-looking the radio in oppressive silence. None of us really says anything for a long while, until Octavia breaks the silence.

''Lincoln's not back yet.''

And that's what's worrying me, I think, but I don't say. What if they never made it into the mountain? What if- No.

''I'm sure he knows what he's doing,'' I say instead. It's not the best answer but it's the only one I can give right now. She doesn't say anything back.

''Any news?'' Raven asks the moment she comes back.

''No,'' I stand up, ''You?''

''Emerson's still asleep,'' she says, ''I was just checking on his airlock. No one's gotten much out of him besides his name.''

''Crap,'' I sit against the edge of the table, ''Why do I have a feeling this isn't gonna go so smoothly?''

''Because it won't,'' Octavia says, head resting against the wall behind her.

''Well, he'll wake up soon,'' says Raven, ''So we'll know soon enough.''

*

Kane interrogates Emerson, but the man's loyalty doesn't exactly waver even at the prospect of torture. And when Kane threatens him, Clarke decides to swoop in all righteous and noble, standing firm against torture. To me it's ludicrous, after everything we've done. I'd think she has no problem with it at this point. She argues that torture doesn't work, but I don't bloody care. I'd at least give it a shot. I couldn't care less about this man. I never thought I'd live to see the day I actually agree with Marcus Kane, but apparently that day has come. Kane storms off in a rage when he realizes his hands are tied, and Abby puts Emerson under twenty-four hour surveillance.

I find myself rushing, almost running after Kane before I can understand what I'm doing.

''Is that all?! You're just not gonna do anything?!''

''It's out of my hands,'' Kane says, walking on. So I speed up and stand in front of him to cut off his path. He finally stops and meets my eyes.

''Are we going to just go by anything Clarke says around here?!''

''This isn't about Clarke-''

''Let Indra in there, let any one of the Grounders, they're gonna get every last thing out of him!'' I insist, ''Let _me_!''

''It's out of my hands,'' he repeats, before he puts a hand on my shoulder and adds: ''And that's final.''

I can almost physically feel my blood boiling as I'm listening to Kane's footsteps getting further and quieter behind me. And then I remember what Indra's told me. All this anger, it will kill me. I need to breathe.

*

_"This is Jasper Jordan. We need help. Forty seven of us are trapped inside Mount Weather."_

The message needs to play out because we can't shut down that frequency, but I find myself barely able to listen to Jasper's voice. I almost shudder at the thought of what could be happening over there right this moment. He wouldn't find a way to record this if he wasn't desperate. 

But I also feel proud of him. He's done more than we could have expected, if Clarke's stories of Mount Weather are anything to go on.

When Clarke walks in, I stiffen. I don't want to talk to her. I know most of my anger is probably misplaced, and I know on some level that Clarke is doing the best she can come up with, but I absolutely do not care. You can't speak reason into someone who breathes anger.

''Can you do it?'' Clarke asks.

"Yeah,'' says Raven, still inspecting the Mountain Men's device that we took from Emerson, ''I can totally replicate this frequency."

"Good. If we can neutralize the Reapers, the tunnels are an option. Get on it."

Wow. She's really into it.

"You don't need to give me orders, Clarke,'' Raven retorts, ''I got this."

"Raven, any word from Bellamy?" Octavia appears at the door.

"Nothing yet,'' I say instead.

"Lincoln is still missing, too. He should be back by now!"

"They'll be okay,'' says Clarke, trying to calm her.

''And you would know that,'' I say, venom in my voice, and I almost immediately wish I'd held it in.

''No, I don't,'' she replies, ''But I believe in him. He can do this.''

''You _believe in him_?!'' I almost screech, forgetting all about Raven and Octavia, ''You _beli_ -?! How dare you?! Bellamy would go above and beyond for his people and all you have to do is just say the word! But _you_ \- you play us like on a God damn chessboard, and you no longer care who you fucking sacrifice! But you _believe in him_?!''

''T-,'' I hear Octavia warn, but I don't care.

''No, how does it feel, Clarke?'' I spit, ''How does all this _power_ feel?''

I'm too angry to really realize she's not arguing back. She's holding herself together the way I can't.

''I do what I must,'' she says, almost too calmly for my liking, and I find I want to throw a good punch at her.

''Then I guess you _must_ dispose of some of us from time to time,'' I sneer, ''Okay. Any orders for me, _heda_?''

''If you think this is easy for me, think again!'' she steps up to me, speaks more passionately now, like her composure threatens to crack, ''But I can't let myself be weak. And your feelings for Bellamy? Right now they're making you weak.''

''I don't even know you anymore,'' I shake my head, take an instinctive step back, ''Weak? Is that what you really think? It makes me human! With all the God damn blood on my hands it's the only thing that does.''

''What makes us human makes us weak,'' she says, and she sounds so much like Lexa I almost shudder.

''Well, that's good for you, commander. Real good,'' I nod, ''But yeah, as long as you believe Bellamy and Lincoln are okay.''

"They better be,'' Raven says to Clarke, biting, ''Your whole plan rests on Bellamy getting in."

"He _will_ ,'' replies Clarke determinedly, and I'm about to leave because the two of us can't both be in the same room together right now, but I'm saved by the bell.

" _Councillor Kane and Clarke Griffin, please report to the south airlock immediately_ ,'' a voice sounds on P.A.

"We'll finish this later,'' Clarke says before she storms off.

''Yeah, we'll finish it,'' I mumble to no one, Clarke long gone. I feel an arm around my shoulder in a half-hug, before I realize it's Raven's. I give her a lousy excuse for a smile before she sits down and gets to work. I sit next to her, lift my feet on the edge of the table, and try to breathe. Octavia finds her spot in the corner, resting her head against the wall. We sit in silence for a while, as Raven works. It soothes us. And I have a feeling more than one person in this room is scared shitless. But all three of us like to play tough.

*

"We're too late. They're already bleeding them."

Clarke is standing at the door, and neither of us looks up immediately. It's just Raven and me now. When it sinks in what Clarke's just said, we both jump on our feet.

''What?!'' my voice reaches new highs.

''No,'' Raven says.

And then, like summoned, Jasper's voice comes on the radio in another recorded message.

_"They've taken Harper and she may already be dead. We don't know how much time we have left."_

All of my insides sink into my feet. This can't be happening. We have to act fast!

"It's over,'' Clarke says, weak, ready to break. She looks like she's given up. And the thought of it makes me want to get my hands around her neck. It can't be over! I need to do _something_ with all of this _anger_.

"No!'' Raven argues, ''You don't get to give up, Clarke! You killed Finn, and I didn't give up! I'm building a damn tone generator! You do your job!"

Oh, crap.

"What _is_ my job?!"

"I don't know, to come up with something!"

"I have _tried_."

_"Camp Jaha, this is Mount Weather. Can anyone read me?"_

_Oh my God._ That's Bellamy. That's Bellamy's voice.

"Holy crap,'' Raven says, but I'm on the radio before either of them can move.

_"Camp Jaha, this is Mount Weather. Can anyone read me-?"_

"Bellamy?!" I call, but my voice is so weak and shaky, I hate the way it sounds.

_''Tasha?''_

''You're alright,'' I breathe, more to the heavens than to him. Tears are stinging at my eyes and I take a deep breath and swallow them back quickly.

 _''For now still kicking,''_ he huffs, _''Listen, we don't have much time. Is Clarke there?''_

''Yeah,'' I give the radio to Clarke.

_"Clarke?"_

"Are you alright?" she asks him.

_"I'm fine. That's it for the good news. We have to talk fast. Something has changed. Jasper, Monty, everyone, they just locked them in the dorm."_

"But they're alive, all of them?"

_"I think so, for now. Maya says that they're already using their blood, and things are gonna get ugly in here real fast."_

"Maya is with you?"

 _"She helped me escape. If not for her, I'd be dead. And, Clarke, there are kids in here. We need a plan that doesn't kill everyone. Please tell me we have one,''_ Bellamy begs.

"I hear you, but we can't do anything until you disable the acid fog,'' says Clarke, ''Raven is gonna help you."

_"Got it. What else?"_

"You have to figure out a way to free the Grounder prisoners. There is a whole army inside that mountain and they don't even realize it."

 _"Trojan horse. Good plan,''_ Bellamy says, and I smile at the way it always comes down to mythology and history for him, no matter what situation he's in.

"What does Maya think? Is it doable?" Clarke asks.

_"She says it's not a problem. Clarke, if I'm gonna pull this off, I need you to buy me some time. It won't be long before they realize I don't belong here, and if that happens-"_

"That won't happen,'' I interfere. Clarke looks me in the eyes and nods in agreement. 

''I'll come up with something,'' she says.

_"Come up with it quick."_

"Copy that. And Bellamy?"

_"Yeah?"_

"You came through. I knew you would."

_"All I've done so far is not get killed."_

"Keep doing that,'' Clarke tells him before she hands the radio to us, ''You're up."

"What are you gonna do?" Raven asks her.

"I'm gonna keep them looking outside instead of in,'' says Clarke.

Whatever that means.

''You should come,'' she tells me, before she walks away. I find it hard to separate myself from the radio, but I still obey.

*

Clarke has brought Indra and most of her squad to Emerson's airlock, and bit by bit I'm starting to understand what's going on. Clarke makes Emerson's guard stand down and tells Emerson to get dressed. He obeys, and before he knows it, he's outside, being escorted by his worst nightmare. When we bring him to the gates, Kane and Abby try to stop us, Abby ordering the guards to get the prisoner back inside; but Indra's warriors step up before Clarke without budging and I hardly know how but I'm right here with Clarke, trusting her again. Probably because I have no choice.

''You may be the Chancellor, but I'm in charge," Clarke insists, staring her mother down with determination.

"Indra, tell your people to stand down before this gets out of hand,'' Abby demands.

"No."

"People could get hurt."

"Not if you get out of my way,'' Clarke tells her, ''You need to trust that I know what's right for us."

"The Grounders trust Clarke,'' Kane finally says, ''Maybe we should, too."

Abby takes a moment, before she gives her word, reluctantly, like she knows she's probably going to regret it. "Stand down.''

"Open the gate. Now."

Once outside, Clarke steps up to Emerson, everyone else spread out around her.

"Can you hear me all right?;; she asks him, ''Because I need to make sure you get this."

"Loud and clear,'' replies Emerson.

"I have a message for your leader. We're coming for him. You're watching us, but you haven't seen a thing. The Grounder army is bigger than you think, and even if you could find it, your acid fog can't hurt them, and now, thanks to you,'' she pulls out his tone generator, ''Neither can the Reapers. So you have one last chance. Let our people go, and we'll let you live. It's just that simple."

"I got it."

"It's an eight-hour walk back to Mount Weather?'' Clarke releases some of his oxygen, ''You're gonna do it in six."

"Six hours?! That's not enough! How am I supposed to deliver your message?!"

"That's your problem. Now go."

Emerson is rushing away before he can take another breath.

"Hold on,'' Octavia demands of Clarke, ''You want to explain to me how this helps my brother?"

"I just told him we have a secret army to worry about. The more they're looking at us, the less they're looking at him. Bellamy is the key to everything, Octavia. If he dies, we die."

That's true enough, I think. But I also know that what I care about most is him.


	54. Chapter 54

Bellamy checks in every three hours, and every three hours I take back a piece of my sanity. So far he hasn't had any close calls regarding his undercover identity, but I know it won't last forever. Still, as long as he checks in every three hours, I can hold my breath a little bit longer.

In the mean time I try to train. Since the Tri Kru left for Tondc with Octavia, I haven't exactly had anyone to train with and learn from, but at least exercising keeps me focused and strong. I do some archery with Monroe and help Sean with his shooting, though we try not to waste bullets. Then I get back to Raven's and wait for Bellamy. Sometimes she's alone in there, focused to the max. Sometimes Wick is with her, or my dad helping them work on designs I barely know anything about. Either way, I'm glad we're all busy to varying extents, because I am completely sure I would lose my mind if I just sat and waited in between Bellamy's check-ins.

*

"Has he checked in yet?" Clarke barges in, Ryder in tow. He's her bodyguard now, or something of the like. From what I know about Ryder, he's one of the best warriors, and I'm not sure he's exactly enjoying following Clarke around like a puppy. It's certainly going on my damn nerves.

"No,'' Raven and I reply at the same time. We've been doing that a lot lately.

''You worried someone's gonna try and take a shot at you inside the Ark?" Raven asks her. Clarke takes the hint. "Wait outside, Ryder,'' she mumbles, but we can hear her. The warrior steps outside.

"Lexa's orders,'' she further explains.

"Whatever, Clarke,'' Raven grumbles, eyes back on her work, more bitter than I am.

"He's late. What if something's happened to him?"

''It'd be your fault,'' I say to myself, but it's loud enough for all to hear.

"He'll be fine,'' Raven argues, and I'm not sure if it's her firm belief or just to comfort me or just to stop the fight that might ensue between me and Clarke. 

"You've been busy,'' Clarke says once she notices Raven's designs and drawings, ''Why are you focusing on the dam? I told you acid fog was our priority."

"Until Bellamy gets eyes on their dispersal system, there's only so much I can do."

"Fine. Tell me about the dam. Can we cut off their power?''

"Maybe. I'm still playing with a few things."

"How many of these have you made?" Clarke grabs one of the tone generators.

"Only two so far, but-"

"Two?! That's not enough! There will be Reapers everywhere!"

"High-frequency tone generators don't grow on trees, Clarke! Wick is scrounging for parts."

"Raven, I am about to leave for Tondc, where Lexa and the heads of all twelve Grounder clans are waiting for me to tell them we're a go, only we're not a go because they still have acid fog, and we only have two tone generators!"

Clarke looks ready to break down, honestly. This heda persona she's been pushing for lately, it's made me forget she's just flesh and bones herself. I've been too angry at her to look at her side of things. So when she sighs like the whole world is crumbling beneath her feet, I can't help softening.

Raven seems to do the same. "Hey,'' she looks into her eyes reassuringly, ''We'll be ready. We _will_."

_"Ark Station, do you read me? Anybody there?"_

''Bellamy!'' I grab the radio, ''You alright? What happened there?''

''Bellamy, every three hours means every three hours,'' Clarke adds.

_"Are you through?"_

Clarke and I share a sigh in unison. 

"Have you found the source of the acid fog?" she asks.

_"No. That's gonna have to wait."_

"What do you mean it's gonna have to wait?'' I scowl. 

''Nothing is more important than that,'' argues Clarke.

_"Our friends are. They've started taking them from the dorm one at a time every few hours."_

"Taking them where?" Raven asks.

_"I don't know. We tried to follow them, but they went to a classified level. Maya borrowed the schematics of the vent system from her boss, and I'm still trying to find a way in."_

_"I think I found a path, but it's gonna be tight,''_ I hear a new unfamiliar female voice, knowing it's Maya, _''Here's the walkie Raven asked for and the earbud."_

"We're going to make him mobile so he can talk to us from anywhere,'' explains Raven.

"Bellamy, you have to find them,'' Clarke insists.

_"That's the plan."_

"If you don't, all of this is for nothing."

_"Yeah."_

''Be careful, Bell,'' I manage to squeeze in when Clarke hands me the radio, before he's on a run again. 

I'm left feeling heavy with fear I'm not letting crawl out of my depths. It has to stay down where it can't threaten to cripple me. The silence of the radio presses against my ears.  
Clarke makes to walk out, mouthing nothing but a silent ''I'll be right back.''

"I thought you were going to Tondc?" Raven asks her.

"Plans have changed. I'm staying here."

*

''He left a note,'' Abby tells me, holding a piece of paper in her hands. I've been summoned here, but I'm not sure why. ''Thelonius,'' she further explains, ''Gave it to Sinclair, told him to wait two days before he gives it to me.''

I almost laugh. It's just the most Jaha thing he could have done. The mellodrama has his name all over it. I should have known he wouldn't have gone without leaving some explanation behind. He's the great leader Thelonius Jaha after all, off on a noble mission.

''I didn't know,'' I say dumbly, because I don't know what else to say. Abby looks worried, but she's prioritizing her worries. This City of Light business just isn't worth thinking about right now. She crumples the note in her palm. I know this isn't why she wanted to talk to me. 

''I'm going to Tondc,'' Abby speaks, finally changing the subject, ''Tomorrow. In Clarke's place. She'll have to come a few days late. And Lexa is expecting us.''

''I see. And... I'm coming?''

''Unless you want to stay,'' Abby says, ''The security in my attendance will be enough, but... well, Clarke trusts you.''

''Clarke wanted me to go?''

Abby nods once.

''Why didn't she just ask me?'' - God, she can be infuriating - ''She doesn't have to go through you, you know! Or does she not have time for such menial tasks anymore?!''

I know this anger isn't healthy, but it's not something I can let go of easily. The anger is the only thing that's real right now, that's certain. Without it, I am drowning in a sea of uncertainties. 

''There's why,'' Abby says, pointing to my general aura, ''She said she's not your favorite person right now. I'd say it's almost an understatement.''

This is her mom. It hits me so suddenly. The roles in this camp have been so messed up lately, we've almost pushed everything to the back of our minds, our hearts. This is her mother. Where's my respect? I better not speak of Clarke like she's a God damn monster right in front of Abby.

''No, she's not,'' I admit honestly, voice calm now, ''But it's not really just her fault. I, uh- I'm dealing with a lot.''

''I can tell,'' Abby says, and she would have smiled if she could right now, ''Feel free to stay here if you want to. But whether you stay or not isn't going to make any difference to Bellamy.''

''I know,'' I swallow, thinking it over at the speed of light, ''I'm going.''

At least I'll feel like I'm doing something that matters.

*

Saying goodbye to Raven was the hardest. Mostly because it felt like I was saying goodbye to Bellamy. I wish I could have told him I was going to Tondc, but he wouldn't tune in in another two hours, and I couldn't wait that long. After all, he had no idea that Octavia was gone either. And my place was still with Octavia, wherever she was, until he's back.

The trip to Tondc is surprisingly trouble-free. Suspiciously so, to my conclusion. It's unsettling; it's left an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I must be going fucking crazy, feeling this way about having a safe trip and not getting attacked. But the whole thing just stinks. Something's off. I don't say it to Abby, but I don't think I have to either. Clarke's plan better work, and fast, because the Mountain's eyes are obviously not on the outside. If they're not on our asses, Bellamy's in graver trouble.

Abby recounts the whole fiasco from the last time they were in Tondc. I think she's talking just to talk, to pass the time, to keep her mind off what might be waiting for her. I can hardly believe the whole gorilla story, and the way Byrne died. It hardly sinks in that Byrne's dead. I never liked the woman much, but I respected her, in a way, and I somehow can't visualize the camp without her. Kane shares an anecdote about Byrne that doesn't stay in my memory. He honors her like this. And I wonder how many more of us will have to die until this whole thing is through.

If I strain my mind, I can remember a day when death mattered more. When people stopped what they were doing to mourn or honor the dead. Now, people are dying so fast and so often, it would all be a waste of time. A luxury we can't afford. Earth has no patience, no pleasantries to offer.

When we're about to arrive in Tondc, it's quite late, and the new moon isn't offering much light in the last portion of our travel. It makes me anxious and extra alert, until we see the lights of Tondc glowing in the distance. The sight is comforting, the sound of the people inside as well. 

We're treated as befits respected guests - good food and rest before any talks can begin. Abby is anxious to get to it though. I, on the other hand, enjoy what I'm given. Octavia greets us and we eat together, sharing bits and pieces of what's happened on both sides in the meantime. She's nervous about Bellamy, and Lincoln, but it seems that Indra keeps her busy enough. I can't keep the fact that they're taking our friends somewhere from her, but I try not to make it sound so grave, at least. I fail spectacularly. She swallows it all though, and keeps it down. She's a warrior, after all.

The couple of days that pass before Clarke comes feel odd without the usual every-three-hour check-in from Bellamy. Despite being in Abby's attendance, I can't really sit in on any of her talks with Lexa, not unless she specifies and demands. Which leaves me free of duties for the greater part of the day. 

But I don't sit idly. Spending a lot of time with the Tri Kru allows me to learn a lot and do exactly what Bellamy expected of me - try and bridge the gap between our people as much as it's in my personal power. I don't do it with the exact intent though; it's quite spontaneous. After a while they don't seem that different from us, really. The way we've all grown together in a way is completely natural. My Trigedasleng becomes more fluent, less strained. Having to hear it everywhere around me all the time makes sure of that.

Sometimes I get the scouting duty or a shift on the watch, usually in the evening. Drea and I cover the western perimeter, and after a couple of days I know that portion of the woods by heart. One sky person and one tree person is the way it usually goes - Grounders may not be willing to touch a gun, but they're not stupid to not send out someone who is. So I hold a rifle while Drea clutches a bow. We don't talk much.

Drea has become somewhat of a silent friend. Though we don't exactly talk a lot, we've been on a task together so many times we've become something of an instinctively functioning team. I know literally next to nothing about him, and yet I know I can trust him out here, maybe even with my life. It's odd, and it's not something I've experienced before - comradeship. But it's very much a real thing. 

He also keeps me company, which I appreciate, because unlike Octavia I'm not exactly among my people here in Tondc, and I don't feel that way either. I seem to have earned the respect and acceptance of some of Indra's squad of command, but that's about the length that it goes. I try not to keep to my own people too much, purposely make myself get up and try to ''mingle'' with the Grounders, because that's what we need right now. Some of the Arkers seem to follow suit, and in a few days the tension between all of us is much much lesser.

Thoughts of Bellamy constantly try to invade my mind, but I always manage to push them back. If Octavia can, so can I. For now, it's working. There is no time to worry. At night the thoughts torment me, but it's never too long until I fall asleep.

On the fourth day, Clarke arrives.

She rides in with a couple of the Tri Kru in charge of her security, and Octavia and I drop what we're doing and stride across to meet her the moment we see her.

''I need you to take me to Lexa,'' she immediately says.

"What's wrong?" Octavia asks her as we walk.

"Nothing."

''Clarke?'' I reiterate, but she doesn't say a thing. She looks afraid though, as much as she conceals it to the world I can see the traces of it cracking through the surface.

''Bellamy?'' I ask again.

''He's okay.''

"Is he ready?'' Octavia asks, ''Did he get the acid fog down?"

"He's working on it."

It's like a silent understanding between me and Octavia, and we don't ask a damn thing more. We lead her across, one of her bodyguards at the rear, but the silence is somehow stifling.

Lexa has stepped out of the Diplomacy Tent - as me and O have taken to calling it - before we can reach her, and she's in the company of Marcus Kane. She doesn't exactly look ecstatic to see Clarke.

"Clarke of the Sky People has honored us with her presence,'' Lexa says, and anyone could discern the sarcasm no matter how well concealed.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Commander."

"You made good time,'' Kane says, ''I assume the kids at Mount Weather are okay?"

"For now,'' replies Clarke, before she turns to Lexa, ''Can we talk in private?''

Lexa agrees and the two leaders leave us, and we're all left standing with an uneasy feeling in our stomachs. I can tell by the way Indra and Octavia share a look, by the way Kane's fingers move on his rifle and he shifts his weight. A meeting without Abby and Kane, and Indra and all the other advisers of Lexa's? There's something Clarke's not telling us, and I don't like it.

''We won't stand around all day,'' Indra finally says in that emotionless voice of hers, ''We all have tasks. Back to it.''

I take that as my cue to go. It's not like I can do anything right now. So I haul ass toward the western perimeter, hoping the day will pass by fast.

*

Night has fallen once my shift is over, and Drea and I literally have to strain our eyes to make our ways back to the core settlement. The lights of Tondc are a way off through the woods, but they serve as guidance on this almost moonless night. It's not like we can have a torch this far out, where enemy eyes could be spying.

The place is bustling busy, people rushing about without rest, doing whatever needs to be done, Tri Kru and Skai Kru alike. Despite it being almost pitch dark already, it's not yet very late. There is still much to be done before it's officially rest and bedtime. I want to check up on Octavia before I report for further duty, but I don't see her anywhere, so I make my way straight to Kane and Indra. 

These two seem to have formed a diplomatic relationship of trust, seeing as they're very often together, consulting each other as two leaders should. It makes me glad, knowing we're growing together as peoples, and I know it's even more of a miracle considering Indra's cold and untrusting nature. 

I'm hoping I'll get some information about Clarke and Lexa's meeting today, but as I make my way toward them, I decide I don't like the looks on their faces. As an unsettling feeling sets into the pit of my stomach, I am very aware that something's off. Before I can reach them, Indra's already striding away somewhere, Kane off to the other side and coming toward me. I turn my power walk into a jog to catch him before he can slip away.

''What's going on?!''

''Clarke and the Commander are nowhere to be found,'' Kane says, ''We need to search the woods. Find Ryder. Tell him to form a party and scout the western perimeter-''

''What- I just came back from the western perimeter! Everything's clear!''

''Well, search again,'' his jaw sets. I can tell he's afraid, and in turn it makes me even more nervouse.

''Alright,'' I nod, ''I'll gather the party.''

He nods before he rushes away, and I literally make a run for it. The barracks are on the other side of the camp, at the very edge and outskirt, and it's my best bet of finding Ryder. If he's not with Clarke, he's having his rest. I want to do this fast or the nerves will eat me up. As I run, the settlement of Tondc seems somehow bigger now that I'm trying to quickly make my way across it, and criss-crossing between people walking around isn't helping it at all.

I finally see it - the long tent on the edge of town, next to the remains of one of the old concrete buildings. The flap of the tent is shifted open, and someone steps out, and I have to run a few steps more to be able to see who it is. Before I can though, something flashes across the sky. Looking up, for a moment I think it's a comet, but it only takes a second to realize it's too bright and too fast and coming down too low. And when I finally realize what it is as it falls toward the center of Tondc, and when my heart almost stops, it's already too late. My feet are off the floor, the pressure pressing against my lungs, the heat covering my skin as I'm sent flying who knows where. To my Death perhaps. This thought passes through my head, like everything's in slow motion and it makes time for these thoughts to form. It's so hot, like someone's pushed my face into a fire, I think. For a brief moment I think of God too, before blackness takes over me and consumes me entirely.


	55. Chapter 55

When I open my eyes, it's the most effort I've ever put into it, like the muscles around them are too tired to work, like my splitting headache can't allow it to happen. I can't see anything, my vision is blurred, and what little I can discern is covered in remains of fires and smoke, and veiled by a moonless night. I do hear screams though, vaguely. That's good. That has to be good. A deafening silence would have been far worse.

It's hard to breathe, but I'm surprised and thankful I can at all. With each labored breath I take, my lungs seem to expand just a bit more, making just a bit more room for the next breath. It hurts a bit too, like I'm straining my ribs.

Realizing I can't hear too well either, I shift on the ground, in pain, and find that my left ear's hearing has been somewhat salvaged. Hopefully, it will all go back to normal, but I can't think about that right now. I try to force myself up. Everything hurts as I do, my head most of all, it seems, and I see blood trickling onto the ground before me. I sit up and try to feel it up. I quickly find the wound in my hairline, but it doesn't seem too perilous - probably a blunt gash from the impact and it can't be deep. Then I realize there's blood trickling down my right ear. Something's burst. Maybe I would have panicked if that was the worst.

There is a chunk of old glass in my side. In fact, my hands and arms up to where I'd rolled up my sleeves are covered in tiny scratches and cuts that never seemed to quite open flesh. As I roll up my shirt, I find my stomach in similar condition. And I know I've been lucky - there is a pool of broken glass all around me. I look to my left and see that the building is an even bigger ruin, blocks of concrete scattered around, fires still licking at wooden ingredients of the structure. I could have died crushed under the concrete that luckily seemed to fly opposite of me. I could have died impaled on glass, but instead I've made it with one injury in my side. These thoughts whistle through my brain like the wind.

I don't feel fear until I think of Octavia. For the first time since I came to, she invades my mind, and then I'm choking on it. I have to find her - her first. But I can't until I do something about the glass in my side.

I can't tell how deep it goes, but I can assume I'd feel much more pain and would probably be dying if it damaged anything on the inside. It couldn't have caught an organ at this angle, I think, and I'm not sure if I'm being level-headed or just comforting myself. If there ever was a time to be level-headed and calm and to just think, this is it.

It's not bleeding too much on the outside, which means the glass is blocking it. If I pull it out, the blood's probably gonna gush out and I'm going to have to stop it fast. Also, the glass is old and filthy and if it stays in my flesh too long, it might cause an infection that might actually kill me. I have to get it out, because I can't risk moving about with that thing in me, where it could break into pieces that would be far more difficult to get out later. But also, if I pull it out now, I have to be careful not to break it myself.

I decide to pull it out. I tear away a large portion of my shirt first, prepare to tie it around me once the glass is out. Then I take a breath, and pray I'm not making a mistake by doing this, and before I can debate it any further, I take a firm hold of the glass. I don't have time to think about how thick it is before I pull it out, screaming, my own screams muffled by my currently poorer hearing. It all happens fast now, I see the blood coming out, and I see the glass is strong and in one piece before I throw it away, and before I can waste another drop of blood, I fumble for the fabric, tying it around and pressing a palm directly against the gash. It will have to do for now. I have to try and find Octavia.

But then my eyes fall on the tent down the lane for the first time, and now I can't walk away. It's torn down by concrete, covered in a pile of blocks. I rush to it, knowing full well I can't pull out anyone who might be in there by myself. But when I get there, I find Ryder outside of it, like God himself had tipped him off and told him to step out. He's half-conscious, a huge chunk pressing against him, covering him almost entire.

''Ryder!'' I cry out, but I think he can only barely hear me. I grab the huge block and pull, but the pain shoots through me so sharp I know I won't be able to do this without at least damaging myself much worse and losing quite a bit of blood. I manage to move the block only an inch before it's pressing against Ryder again. I think I can hear him grunt, like I'm causing him more pain than he's already in. But I need to get him out, because the way the blood circulation is obviously cut off in his legs, he can't stay this way much longer. So I get ready to pull again, and the next thing I know there's people next to me, helping me haul. With a scream through my teeth, and every ounce of strength I have, we've managed to free Ryder. 

I fall on my knees next to him, mostly because I'm losing energy, and more blood than I planned. I shake Ryder and slap his face, to get him completely awake. ''Heda'' is the first thing he says weakly, throat croaking.

''She wasn't in camp, I don't know where she is,'' I explain quickly, ''Clarke neither. Come on, we need to help others.''

I'm sure he wants to be as quick and efficient as he can, but he gets up very slowly. It takes a moment before he can steady himself and stand upright safe and stable. He hasn't broken anything by some miracle, and there is only some blood on his shoulder from a cut that won't threaten him. He's completely battered and bruised, but he's in one piece. The warriors who helped me are already working on trying to free the others, whoever may be caught under. I recognize a face or two, but my brain is still fuzzy. Octavia. I have to find Octavia.

Ryder helps me back to my feet, giving me a hand.

''You're injured,'' he says.

''I'm fine. For now. We need to help the others. I need to find Octavia.''

''Can you stand?'' he asks, eyeing the cloth that's already dark red and completely soaked through.

''I can,'' I insist, and he doesn't argue with me further. Among the Tri Kru, if a warrior says they can fight, it would be disrespectful to stand in their way. I'm not exactly a warrior, but apparently the rule still goes. So we struggle our way through, ignoring the pain and discomfort, ignoring the guilt for prioritizing people and not helping right where I stand. But I have to find Octavia, and I know it's Lexa's and Clarke's life before Ryder's, so we push on.

As we near the center, the horror amplifies. It still doesn't sink in completely though, even as I'm looking upon all the destruction and death, even as I'm listening to all the shouts and cries. Everything's a ruin. There's not a single building left standing, and seeing the number of survivors actually on their feet makes me think about how many might be dead right this very moment, and a chill travels through my spine. ''Come on,'' I hear Ryder say, but it's hard to move my feet and look away from it all. I can hear someone's shrill scream in the background; it stands out among the other cries. I can see some people trying to help here in this God-forsaken section where every building stood too close and there's barely a foothold left to get across. It's so difficult in the dead of night too, and there's still fires and smoke making it even harder. I'm in too much of a shock to panic or cry, but I'm aware enough not to hope for all these people to be saved. It's like a voice in the very back of my mind. And I know we have to move on.

When we come to the square, we see the real horrors. I see arms and legs in the ruins. There is a woman screaming as she's holding the stump of where her hand used to be. I witness the very last moments of a young boy's life right to my left, squeezed under the rubble. I walk past a dead horse lying in a pool of blood, its mane singed and blackened. I see a man not too far away, cradling another in his arms, crying. I know I should have some sort of reaction to all of this, but I'm detached, a mere onlooker. And I know it's exactly what's saved me so far, this shock. 

Then I see her - Octavia, safe and sound, running toward us from the southeast, Lincoln in tow. If this was any other situation, I'd be surprised and relieved to see Lincoln, but right now I don't give it a second thought. 

''You're bleeding,'' Octavia says, one hand on my arm like it makes a difference.

''I'm fine,'' I say, ''I'll be fine. We need a plan.''

Octavia nods. ''Come,'' she says as she leads the way, ''And careful. Watch where you step.''

Everyone's already pulling out anyone they can reach. I can see Abby across, helping the injured with Nyko's assistance, and seeing her, relief shoots through me immediately. Ryder and Octavia rush to her, but Lincoln takes another direction.

''What is it?'' I ask, but he's already hopping down the rubble, and all I can do is follow. 

''Lincoln, be careful. It's not stable,'' we can hear Octavia warn above the noise.

''They're down there,'' Lincoln says, before he pulls a giant block of concrete, ''Yaagh!''

I realize which building this used to be. I know there are more than a handful of people inside, unless they somehow found themselves out before it happened. I make my way down quickly to try and help him.

''Do you hear someone?'' Abby asks - shouts, really. And even though it's better than when I first opened my eyes, I can hardly rely on my sense of hearing right now. Instead, Lincoln and I make our way across, to try digging from the other side. And on the other side we find Indra, lying unconscious in the rubble. Lincoln runs to her before I can blink, gets down and checks her pulse before I can follow.

''Indra!'' he shouts, ''She's alive!!''

I hop the rest of the way across, and as Lincoln removes the biggest blocks pressing against her, I hook my hands in the pits of Indra's arms and clench my teeth as I drag her out. I don't know how many more times I'll be able to do this - I could swear I can feel a trickle of warm blood sliding down below my makeshift bandage. Abby and Octavia are next to us immediately, but the moment Indra comes to, she's already getting to her feet. She coils away from Lincoln when he tries to help her up. ''Set ai daun, ripa!''

What happens next is something none of us would have expected on top of everything in our wildest dreams. The first bullet seems to whistle right past my ear as it hits Indra, and she topples over. For a short but too long moment we just stand frozen as Lincoln keeps Indra upright, but then the other bullets start buzzing, and we're now all cowering on the ground.

''Sniper!'' I growl, like everyone doesn't know already. 

''Octavia, go!'' Lincoln tells her immediately as he hauls Indra away to remote safety. Octavia's already skulking away, keeping as low to the ground as she can. The sniper is still shooting. On the other side, I can see Abby running from block to block, still trying to get to the injured, but if she continues like this she'll catch a bullet before she'll dress another wound.

''Abby, don't!'' I shout, still sitting on the ground, back pressed against a chunk of a wall. Bullets are flying everywhere around me, and I've lost so much blood I'm more tired than I should be, and I'm almost tempted to just stay here and sit it out. I feel oddly sleepy, but I know I can't allow myself to sit around useless. Still, I don't see a way of getting across. Unless someone takes out that sniper, we'll all be dead meat.

Lincoln and Indra are not too far across from me, behind the rubble of concrete and metal. I can see them, Lincoln's head peeking out every now and then, but there's no getting out. When Nyko runs and makes his way to Octavia who's now crouching shielded to the left of Lincoln across the alley, he almost gets shot himself. 

Someone tries to run across, but they're shot dead halfway through. I can't even tell who it was from this distance and in this darkness, but I know it's a God damn lesson. Slowly, people start getting the hang of skulking around, and a small group already forms behind Octavia. I decide it's time for me to get up too. I have to, most of the bullets are flying right around me like I'm a motherfucking practice dummy, and it's only a matter of time before one catches me. Statistically, at this point, one has to, at least by accident. 

I take a good look around. What _can_ I do? The next rubble to the west is the closest option and my best bet, so without too much thinking and debate I clench my teeth and run across while staying ducked low. Another bullet whizzes past as I do, but I've made it. Where I can try and be of help. 

There is a hand reaching through two metal bars, but that's all I can see coming out of the rubble. I take the hand and see that it's still a tad bit warm, just barely, and the fingers twitch in an attempt to squeeze mine. I know the person inside is alive, but I also know they won't be for very long.

It takes a while just to be able to uncover the upper body, just down to the shoulders. And once the head moves and a face meets me from below, I freeze. It's Drea. I move the hair from his face to see, and sure enough it's him, looking as pale as the moon even with all the soot and filthy blackness covering his face. I don't even know what's wrong with him, what type of injury he's suffering, but I know he's dying. 

His mouth twitches in a half-smile when he sees me. His fingers are still coiled around mine. I don't move to dig out the rest of his body. My mind knows it's too late even though it doesn't exactly come to the forefront of my consciousness.

''Thank you,'' he says, croaking barely audibly.

''For what?'' I ask him, wanting to cry for the first time.

''For coming,'' he says, that weak half-smile twitching again, ''I never wanted to die alone.''

And with another squeeze I'm sure is just a spasm, his fingers around mine relax, and so does his face, and his whole body, until he's limp and nothing more than a corpse lying in a rubble. This young boy, who was so skilled, so beautiful, so trustworthy, so capable, so willing to live his life. The Mountain has taken one more person from me. I silently promise Drea I would shed a tear for him if only I could. Tears sting at my eyes almost painfully, but they're not leaving them. I can't seem to let go of his hand - I don't know how much time has passed since he's died but I'm still holding his now very cold hand and I still feel frozen, like a breath stopped somewhere in my lungs, and nothing's working properly inside me anymore. I have to consciously, actively, make myself let go. I pull the knife out of my boot, and with great care even though it makes no difference, I cut off one of the small braids in his hair. I put it in a pocket of my jacket.

''Yu gonplei ste odon.''

A bullet lands too close to my foot this time, and that's what wakes me up - I realize I've almost shut it all out completely. The Mountain Man's still firing, and I have to move. But I'm even weaker now, and I just wanna find a place to lie down and curl up. Still, slowly and carefully, I crawl on all fours, making my way around the rubble. The south-west edge will offer me most protection. I don't even have to ignore the pain anymore, it's like my brain's programmed my body to worry about that later. Every time that gun goes off though, and just doesn't stop - it makes me realize just how trapped we are. Taking out the sniper should be first priority. I'd go after it myself if I wasn't in this God damn condition. 

Once I reach more safety, I crumple to the floor again. I realize I'm too weak to be of help to anybody anymore. I hate myself for being useless, for sitting and waiting while there's people dying, but I can't force my body for much longer. I lean back against the cold concrete and look down on my wound. The bandage looks almost black with blood, and there's definitely blood dripping below it. If only someone would take out that sniper so we could get to helping people and once the worst injuries are taken care of someone would help me. I just have to make it through the night.

The noise of the ruined camp slowly becomes fainter, and even the sounds of the bullets are dulled, as some oddly comforting heat spreads in my head, right between my temples. I know I should be fighting it, that it's bad for me and it's seducing me, but all my mind wants is to go to sleep. It's not long before my eyes start feeling heavy too, but I try to keep myself awake, hand against side. And just as I'm about to doze off, the comfortable blackness coming to me in waves I have to fight off, something pulls me out of it. A cry. A moan of pain, really, coming from behind me.

I get back into a crouch, find the strength in me. Weakly, I move the bits of concrete out of my way. Rather than picking them up, I roll them off, and even that is harder than I would have imagined. It's going too slowly too, but I keep on, stone by stone, rock by rock, brick by brick. And the sound becomes clearer.

Frank Nichols is the last person I'd rush to save, but there he is, barely alive, and right at my mercy. The sight of him wakes me up, injects me with another dose of adrenaline. He's conscious, he can see who it is that's come to his rescue, even though one of his eyes is closed up and bloody. His fingers twitch against the ground in a futile attempt to drag himself out. But he can't do that without me. I can tell the exact moment that realization hits him, because I can see the very real fear in his eyes.

''Please,'' he almost cries, ''Please. Help me out of here-''

I don't move. I don't tell him anything either, I just watch him, dead in the eyes. And I'm actually contemplating. Should I bother? Does he deserve to be saved? I don't want to help him. Especially since I can't be of help to those who deserve it more. Especially since I couldn't help Drea. And with every bit of effort I make to get him out of there, I'm losing some of my own blood, some of my own strength. And he doesn't deserve it. That day on the plateau, I was ready to kill him with my own bare hands. Why should I save him now when the Mountain Men seem to have taken care of the dirty work?

''Please,'' he cries again, his fingers twitching one more time. More than half his body is under the rubble. By the way he sounds, he's having trouble breathing, and by the look of things he's probably bleeding too. I find that I don't really care. And maybe if there wasn't a sniper shooting around, and I was in full health, I would have just walked away. But I can't walk away and leave him, because there's nowhere to go, and I don't have the strength. So I just sit down next to him.

And I want to ignore him. Good God, do I want to ignore him and let him just die, but he's right there, in my ear, and he's begging, and his cries become more quiet with time, and it's easier to let someone die when you don't have to listen to them. In my mind's eye he's always been a monster, but with every fragile word that escapes his dying mouth I wonder - what am I? With everything I've done, what am I? Letting him die like this, deserved or not, listening to him beg - what does that make me? My father's smiling face flashes before my eyes. Maybe he would have killed Nichols in a bout of rage himself, but he would have never wanted _me_ to be this person. I know it. He never raised me to be cold and unforgiving. As much as he hates this man, seeing me watch him die would have broken at least a piece of his heart. The daughter he raised would be officially dead, and I'm not ready to completely let go of that person. The girl I was, I'm not ready to take her away from my dad. And that's what makes me move. That's what gets me on my knees, and my hands on the cold concrete.

And as I start rolling the rocks off of Frank Nichols, I think of Drea whom I couldn't save, who deserved to live more than this man ever would, and tears in my eyes finally give me relief as they slide down my face. The saltiness gives me a hint of where each cut and gash on my face is.


	56. Chapter 56

Drea's handsome young face haunts me. I don't know why he haunts me so much - we will burn far too many dead, but it's _his_ face in particular that lingers and won't give me peace of mind. It makes me wonder how I'm still alive. Is it luck, or is it some God favoring me, keeping me in life for something still? Better warriors have perished, more skilled survivors have turned to dust. So how? And why?

I don't know. It makes me wonder about John too, whether he's still alive or lying dead in a ditch somewhere before he's even reached the Dead Zone. For some reason though, I have a positive feeling he's still out there, alive and kicking. Much like me, he's survived when by all means he should have perished with the others. I've known him for so long it feels like we came into this world together, so I can hardly imagine us dying any way else than together. It's odd, but I only now realize that it's true.

I've lost too much blood. When Lincoln sounds his horn to sound an all-clear, I know it's any moment now that I'll lose consciousness. I've held on for a while now, and maybe, just maybe, this is the time I finally die. I don't want to die, but with how much I've already survived, how much I've seen, it's not like I can really complain. Especially now that my will is weakening, death seems almost comfortable. 

The only thing that makes me really mad is the idea of dying next to Nichols. If I drop dead here, they'll find us together. My entire life's been tied to this man, my name known only because of his - I don't want to die and be remembered because of him as well.

Soon another horn sounds, a horn of more hope, but before I can realize what it signifies, I'm already swallowed by darkness.

*

I'm surprised to wake up in the middle of the night. It takes a moment for me to recollect everything that's happened and where the hell I am. I should have died, or at least slept away a few days now that I'm saved. I'm weak and pained and thirsty and lying in a quickly put-together shelter with some of the other survivors. The night is too quiet and calm - the type of calm that makes your skin crawl. There is a veil of sadness covering everyone and everything in Tondc, weighing all of our hearts down, I know - because it's almost palpable.

Seeing the other survivors, I know it could have been worse, but somehow, it doesn't feel like any sort of small victory at all. 

I realize that my wound is all patched up, and there's an IV hooked into my arm, keeping me nourished after the massive blood-loss, and I quickly put everything together. I remember the glimpse of my people coming to help with the Ark equipment, before I blacked out. I wonder if dad is here, before I succumb to sleep again.

*

I wake up very early, first lights of dawn barely cracking through the darkness. There is a woman whose name I don't know checking on the injured, everyone still asleep. Dad is almost at me feet, resting his head over my legs. When I move ever so slightly, he wakes and looks up the way an earthquake couldn't have roused him. He looks like he's aged far too much overnight, and it gives me a pang of guilt.

''You're alright,'' dad almost whispers, not wanting to wake the others. He reaches for my cheek, moving a strand of hair out of my face. He looks even more worn-out this up close, and worried, and afraid. 

The nurse has just finished with re-bandaging one of the Tri Kru before she walks out, leaving us to the thick silence.

''I'm alright,'' I concur, pushing myself to sit up. And I do feel better than when I woke up a few hours ago. I look to the IV bag to find it empty, and that explains it. I pull out the needle.

''Careful,'' dad says, but the wound in my side doesn't exactly hurt much, it just feels weird now that the flesh is sewn together - sensitive and vulnerable.

''Dad, I'm fine,'' I insist, ''Just a bit of real food and I'll be good as new.''

''You're lucky there wasn't any internal bleeding,'' he frowns, ''Seriously, what were you thinking? You should have sought help immediately. You could have bled out!''

''I wasn't a priority,'' I say, thinking about all those we found in far worse condition, and suddenly remembering Lexa and Clarke. ''Clarke-?''

''She's fine. Lexa too,'' - I release a sigh of relief - ''She seems undeterred - Lexa.''

''What do you mean?''

''She's gathering her entire host, plans on marching as soon as possible.''

''What? Like, tonight or-? Why?'' It feels so sudden and soon I instantly grow nervous and scared to death. ''What happened?! Bellamy?!''

''Bellamy's fine,'' dad places a hand over mine to calm me. But Lexa's picking up the pace this suddenly leaves me only one option for an answer - our friends in Mount Weather must be in great danger as we speak.

I get to my feet too quickly perhaps, because a bout of dizziness hits me and the world swirls around me. Dad seems to have caught on because he steadies me, even though I tear away immediately, insisting I'm fine. I have to be, or they won't let me march with the rest.

''You're not ready,'' dad argues again, like he can read my mind.

''I'm fine,'' I insist, ''Dad, there are others in greater need. I'm occupying space.''

He knows it for truth, so he doesn't argue it. ''Still, you need to rest a bit. And Lexa will have no shortage of warriors - skilled warriors - there is no need for you to-''

I'm already out of the tent, pulling an arm through my jacket, because I don't want us to argue where the others sleep, and dad is about to argue. He follows me outside. The sun is a bit higher behind the mountain tops, but it's still way too early for many people to be outside - except for those tending to the injured. The ruins are still everywhere, obviously, but for a moment they shock me, like everything's just been a really bad dream, and I'm taken aback by the rubble now that I no longer see it in the dark. I'm almost physically sickened by it.

I see Abby coming out of a tent across from ours, looking more tired than ever. There is a smudge of blood on her forehead, someone else's. She sits on a rock in front to rest, elbows on knees and hands in her hair. She doesn't see us until she looks up again, as we make our way across to her. Then she stands up.

''Why are you up?'' she asks.

''I'm fine,'' I say, ''I'd rather be helpful. How is everyone? Indra-?'' I remember Nichols, but I don't ask her about him. 

''Indra's fine. Most of the survivors have made it through the night. We've been lucky.''

''Marcus-?'' dad asks.

''Better,'' Abby nods, ''We'll start moving the injured back to the Ark in a few hours. We're running out of supplies and we can't do much here.''

''I'm glad Clarke's okay,'' I say honestly, placing a hand on her arm. Abby looks like something breaks inside of her for a moment, before she forces a smile of gratitude. 

''When are we heading back?'' dad asks impatiently, as though an order from the Chancellor would compel me to obey the way a parent's wishes can't.

''I'm not going back,'' I insist, like the mere idea is ludicrous.

''Tasha-''

''No, dad. Those are my friends. That's Bellamy in there. I won't sit around while the others fight.''

''Abby, please tell her,'' he almost begs her with his eyes, exasperated, ''She's much too weak, and she's no soldier-''

''This isn't a debate,'' I scoff, ''I don't need permission from any of you. We sure as hell have lived without it so far.''

''That's my child out there too, Rick,'' Abby says, eyes glistening, voice hollow, ''But they're not children anymore. We sent them down here, Earth did the rest.''

Dad looks like he's lost every fight he's ever fought, but I can't be around either of them anymore.

''I'll be around if you need my help,'' I say before I storm off, ''I'll go look for Octavia.''

*

My healing skills extend to first aid, so there isn't much I can do to help beside the basic stuff. Octavia's much the same, adding to it whatever Lincoln's taught her. With my Earth Skills knowledge and some of Lincoln's instructions, I try to go foraging for any herbs we could use now that we're in need before the injured are sent off to the Ark. It makes me feel useful now that we're awaiting further orders.

My wound dangerously pulsates rather than hurts, and I know very well how careful I have to be not to re-open it. But it doesn't stop me from wanting to march on Mount Weather. It doesn't deter me, it doesn't make me question my decision. I am going to.

''You don't have to do this, you know,'' Octavia tells me when we go hunting, tracking our next meal now that we have nothing left to eat in Tondc.

''What?''

''You're no use to anyone dead,'' she argues, ''I know you love my brother, and I understand why you won't back down. But maybe the smartest thing to do would be to stay behind and wait for him. You have nothing to prove.''

''I'm not trying to prove anything,'' I say, ''I just- I _can't_ sit back while everyone fights. I can't.''

''You're weak, T. That makes you an easier target.''

''Don't give me that warrior talk now, Octavia. Would you sit back if it was Lincoln?''

I already know the answer, and she knows that I know, so she doesn't bother replying.

''Exactly,'' I say, ''I won't be anyone's burden. If you want to, you can watch my back, but don't go out of your way. I am my own responsibility.''

I speed up so we don't have to have this conversation anymore. In a moment I can hear her catching up behind me.

*

The sun is low in the sky when everyone is finally ready and the injured are set to be moved. I say goodbye to dad, but I try to make it as short as possible. There's no need to make this any more difficult than it already is. ''Raven's gonna need all the help she can get,'' I tell him, because I know he has half a mind to follow Lexa instead, just to keep an eye on me. He only nods though, tells me to be careful, kisses my forehead, before he walks away with the throng. We all have a part to play, and I know his and mine.

When we're all geared up and ready to follow Lexa and march to the designated encampment, night has fallen, and I'm suddenly all too aware of what's coming. Nervousness twists my insides, but as the crowd forms and moves ahead, I can feel a hand clasp mine. Somehow I know it's Octavia, before I even look. When I do look, she offers me a smile. And it helps.

I'm ready.


	57. Chapter 57

''O, what's wrong?''

''Nothing,'' she replies, taking another 'swoosh' at her blade. The weapon looks sharp enough to me, but I've already figured out that this is just something she does when she wants to relax and kill her nerves. So I know there's _definitely_ something going on.

''O, I know you. You're clearly upset,'' I sit beside her, ''You can tell me.''

''But that's the thing,'' she throws away the sharpening stone and sheathes her machete, ''I can't.''

She stands up and walks away, just like that - leaving me bewildered and worried. I was already antsy - I just want us to go and get this over with; but gathering the whole host in the encampment proves to be taking much longer than I expected. Now I really don't know what to do with myself, and as late in the night as it is, I'm too restless to sleep. I know better than to chase after Octavia and insist though. So I just pick up my quiver and go to try and fletch some more arrows. My first instinct is to seek Drea, before I remember the horrible truth. I'll have no company here now.

It takes me a while to navigate across the big camp, feeling like any familiar face will do now, really. I don't expect to find the person I do - sitting next to a sleeping guard I don't know, warming his hands against the small log fire. I'm absolutely surprised to see him, completely thrown aback.

'' _Sean?_ ''

''Well, you look like you could use some sleep,'' he smirks up at me.

''What are you doing here?!''

''Oh, you know... Camp Jaha's just been really boring lately-''

''I'm serious!'' I say, sitting down next to him, ''Why are _you_ risking your life whe-?''

''Woah there, hold on,'' he stops me, ''Why wouldn't I?''

''This isn't your fight-''

''How so? They're my people too,'' he says, ''Sure, I've never met some of those kids, but I've met you, and you saved _me_. _And_ my people. Bellamy taught me how to use this thing,'' he lifts his rifle, ''I pay back my debts.''

I'm so deeply touched by this I could crush him in a hug. I don't know what's wrong with me and my sudden bouts of mixed emotions - am I seriously this messed up? Are my eyes glistening right now? Is it the flames of the fire? Can he see it? Does he know how much this means to me? I grab his face and smash a kiss on his cheek, because I can't express this with words.

*

The whole of the host is gathered and the encampment completely expanded by the end of the next day, and I'm sure the Mountain is watching this and shaking in fear. It takes my breath away just to look around me - my own eyes can't reach down to the last torch. Our numbers are bigger than I ever expected, our force mightier. I can only imagine what we must look like from higher ground.

On the third day, we move with sundown. It's a few hours to the mountain and we want to move at night. I'm nervous, but more excited than afraid. The sound of the horns and our sheer numbers give me courage. The adrenaline makes me feel stronger, like I was never in a sickbed. I know it's an illusion though; once it wears off, I will feel as weak as I should. But it won't wear off until this thing is through, that much I know.

Sean marches beside me, keeping his light playful smile, but I know he's afraid, far more than he lets on. I give a smile back, silently telling him how much I appreciate him staying. I'll try to talk to Clarke and get him to the rearguard though, where he'll be safer.

 _Clarke._ I realize I haven't spoken to her since... well, since she entered Tondc gates, I think. I haven't been as angry, but she's been busy and nowhere to be seen. And then she seemed to just disappear and we were supposed to search the woods for her right before that missile hit and...

_No way._

It can't be. It just can't be. She wouldn't. I know Clarke - Clarke who's saved so many lives, who's risked it all for her people, her own skin for someone else's - as much as I don't agree with her, I know her heart and her genuine intentions. She wouldn't do this.

But it all clicks together. And my heart starts beating faster.

''Hey, where are you going?'' Sean grabs my arm when I try to make my way ahead through the throng.

''I have to find Octavia,'' I say before I tear away.

It takes a while and some struggle to reach her, but I find her ahead, walking behind Indra. A safe distance behind thankfully, I think, before I pull her elbow.

''Octavia!''

She turns around to meet me, and I know she can see I look quite obviously shaken. 

''Tell me the truth,'' I demand, breathing more heavily from that rush.

She grimaces in a way that tells me to keep it down, to keep it quiet. I look around, and I don't think anyone's staring at us as we're keeping up and walking ahead. Indra doesn't look like she's listening to us either. 

''I think I know,'' I almost whisper now, keeping so close to her our shoulders are brushing against each other.

''Then I don't have to tell you anything,'' she replies quietly, not looking at me. But I can catch something in her eyes that confirms it for me, even though I'm almost physically unable to say it out loud.

''I could have died,'' I say instead, feeling something in me almost break, ''You, Lincoln, Nyko... Drea is dead!''

'' _Shut up!_ '' she hisses at me now, eyes wide. I stare right back, not quite fully aware of my lash-out. She grabs my arm and almost pushes me out of the throng, out of the thick traffic.

''You wanna die?!'' she growls at me where we can stand still, ''Because you will if they think you're a threat to this alliance.''

''Well, it obviously wouldn't be the first time they've tried,'' I say, feeling so deeply disappointed it almost feels like heart-break. It's devastating.

''Listen to me,'' Octavia stares me down, more kindly now, ''Trust me, I don't like any of this shit any more than you do, but we have to suck it up now, alright? This alliance has to hold.''

''You don't have to tell _me_ that, O. Finn _died_ for this,'' I can feel my eyes watering, ''And Bellamy's in there, risking his neck.''

''Keep your mouth shut, then,'' she says as she wraps an arm around my shoulders in a half-hug, leading us back into the throng, ''Or I'll really have to watch your back.''

The battle cries sound again at the most appropriate time. They bring me back to where I should be. We raise our machetes with the rest, and I try to channel and focus my anger instead of letting it lead me. 

Indra said once that my anger would be the end of me. I wouldn't let it - not today.

*

It's broad daylight when we encircle most of the mountain, and I see the main gate for the first time. It's almost funny, the way it doesn't look like much. I know it could withstand nuclear bombing.

We've marched all night, but I don't feel tired at all. Thank the adrenaline, I guess. I do constantly have this weird feeling like I have to go pee though, but I try to harness this nervousness into energy. It's Octavia that reminds me to eat and drink, so I can stay strong. I don't feel like I've ever been injured, really. But I still remind myself it's all an illusion of the mind. 

The tents are put up in no time, spotting the field around the mountain seemingly endlessly. I have no idea how many of us there are, but it all makes me feel a lot safer than I should be feeling. I decide to check up on my gear and try to rest a bit while the leaders are discussing and we're awaiting new orders. There isn't much to be done now.

Sleep catches me unawares, and I wake in the afternoon, thankful that it did. I seem to be right on time, because Octavia's slipping the last dagger in her boot and is ready to leave.

''Good luck,'' I say, startling her a bit, making her jump. She turns around.

''You too,'' she says, ''Watch yourself. See you at the end.''

''See you at the end.''

When she leaves the tent, it feels so final - not like I won't see her again, but like it's the end of a huge chapter for us now. And it is. There's only two ways this whole thing can end.

When I fully gear up again and step outside, Indra's team has already left. Sean is outside, sharing a meal with some of the Tri Kru, and it's an odd sight, because I know very well just how accepting they are. I'm reminded of that time Drea broke bread with me, and suddenly the anger I have for Clarke and Lexa slashes me again.

The Commander's tent is just two tents away. As soon as there are orders, I will be among the first to know. I sit down and eat a little something with the rest, in silence. Sean tries to start up conversation, but he can see I'm in a sour mood that can't be helped. I miss Bellamy like crazy. All this while I've tried to shut him out so I can stay focused, and thinking about him now makes me mad with worry. _God, I hope he's okay._

A large shadow veils me, and I look up to meet the tall man to whom it belongs. Ryder stands there, looking for all the world like a mountain himself from this low on the ground. 

''The Skai Kru are here. Heda orders us to meet them and bring them to her.''

''Wha-?'' I'm caught off-guard. _Who_ 's here? And why me and Ryder? ''And she ordered me in particular,'' I say more than ask.

''Clarke of the Sky People did.''

 _Clarke did._ She must have something special up her sleeve for me then.

I stand up and adjust my quiver. ''Let's go.''

*

I'm happy to see Monroe and Sgt. Miller arrive, some of the guards in tow, and Dwyght among them. I give him and Monroe a hug before they fill us in on why they're here. They're bringing Raven's hydrazine bomb, Sgt. Miller says. So we bring them back to the Command Post tent.

''Welcome, Sky People,'' Lexa says, and the sight of both her and Clarke makes me want to claw at her face, ''Join us.''

When we step in, I realize every single field commander sans Indra is there, around the table. Lincoln is there too, at Clarke's side. Her most trusted adviser now, I suppose. She's smart for that. When Sgt. Miller hands Clarke the package from Raven, Lexa speaks up again:

''Field commanders, today's the day we get our people back. The enemy thinks it's safe behind its doors, but it's not. When it realizes that, it will fight back... Hard.''

''This is a rescue mission,'' Clarke finally says, ''We are not here to wipe them out. There are people inside that mountain that have helped us, children who have nothing to do with this war. We kill their soldiers, their leadership if we have to, but we are there to rescue our people. Is that clear?''

There is some chatter and indistinct mumbles, but the small crowd is still following. I can't help but think about how it's now that she's all of a sudden all noble and merciful, but I push that bitter thought away. I remember Maya, the girl whose voice I've only heard, that's helped my Bellamy and the rest of my friends stay alive, risking her all. And I want to save her.

''Then let's begin. There are four teams. Two of them - at the dam and in the mine - are moving into position already. The third - inside the mountain - is freeing the Grounder prisoners as we speak. It is our job as the fourth team to keep the eyes of the enemy off of them for as long as possible,'' Clarke explains, ''To do that, we have to be in position here at the main door with our entire army. The Mountain Men believe the door can't be opened from the outside, so they leave it unguarded. Only it can be, and thanks to our source on the inside, now we know how. According to Maya, the electromagnetic locking system has one flaw. When the power goes out, it disengages. That's where Raven's team comes in. The mountain's electricity is generated at Philpott Dam. By now, they've taken the turbine room. It's their job to blow the power. Once they do, we blow the lock,'' she goes on, pacing slowly around the table to show it on the prototype, ''There is a catch - a backup generator inside the mountain. If the lock is still functioning when that backup power kicks in, we'll never get that door open. We'll never get our people back.''

''How much time do we have until the backup power kicks in?'' Sgt. Miller asks.

''One minute. That's the window.''

''Small window. Why don't we just take out the backup generator, too? Bellamy's inside - have him do it.''

''Leaving them without power that long would kill them all, and as I said, that's not the mission. Besides, we lost contact with Bellamy.''

''What?'' Monroe asks before I can, ''We did? When?'' 

''After he took out the acid fog.''

''And you failed to mention this?!'' I almost screech, my heart beating so hard I feel like it will fail me, ''Does Octavia know?!''

''Bellamy's a warrior,'' Lexa replies instead of her, ''He'll be fine.''

How dare you talk like you know, like you know _him_?! I think but I don't say.

''As the commander said, once the door is open, the shooting will start, and they'll throw everything they have at us, but that's what we want,'' Clarke goes on, ''We want them looking at us because while we're fighting at the front door, Indra's team will be escorting the prisoners out the back, right through the reaper tunnels. Once all our people are free, they'll sound the retreat. We'll be back home before Mount Weather even knows they're gone, and that's it. That's the plan.''

I hear her, but all I can think about is Bellamy, and whatever room's left in my mind is taken up by Nathan and Jasper and Monty and their fates relying on a plan based on a prayer. Now I'm terrified. 

''The mountain has cast a shadow over these woods for too long,'' Lexa speaks up again, ''They've hunted us, controlled us, turned us into monsters. That ends today. Thanks to our alliance with the Sky People, the mountain will fall. As Clarke said, we spare the innocent. As for the guilty...''

The crowd finishes her sentence as they take up the chant: 

_''Jus dren jus daun! Jus dren jus daun! Jus dren jus daun! Jus dren jus daun! Jus dren jus daun! Jus dren jus daun!''_

And as the words echo into endlessness, all I want is Bellamy safe.


	58. Chapter 58

''I should have gone with Indra and the rest,'' I tell Sean as we stand facing the main gate, Monroe at my other side, in the crowd that swallows us, ''I've faced Reapers before. Some of those guys don't know what the hell they're dealing with. And me, I'm stuck here waiting now.''

''Calm down,'' Sean says, ''It's gonna be fine.''

''I hate optimists,'' Monroe grumbles, looking restless and jittery, her foot dancing against the ground.

''I mean, seriously - what could go wrong?!'' I ask sarcastically, to which we all snort into much needed laughter.

''It's time,'' Clarke announces, still followed by her bodyguards. I didn't even see her come. Monroe only nods and follows her back, and Sean and I keep behind them.

Monroe is given a drill, and her walk to the gate is a bit shaky. She's nervous, but she manages to drill a hole into the door. Sgt. Miller is to insert the hydrazine bomb into it, but his hands shake too much. Lincoln follows him to provide protection in case any of the Mountain Men try taking any shots, but Sgt. Miller doesn't exactly feel any safer or under less pressure. I can see Lincoln grab his arm and lean in to tell him something, and whatever it is that he said has calmed and emboldened the man. Sgt. Miller replies something to Lincoln, before he steadily inserts the bomb.

''And now we wait,'' I say, more to myself than anyone else.

''And now we wait,'' Clarke agrees quietly, before her voice rises up the way it does when she gives an order, ''Be ready! We need to blow that lock as soon as the power is down.'' 

Sgt. Miller nods nervously, handing the detonator over to Clarke. Everyone's in position. Clarke stands next to Lexa, who surprisingly enough seems to have given Clarke the baton and isn't saying much. I'm nervous, but I'm clutching my rifle firmly. When the Mountain Men start shooting, a bow and arrows won't be much use, unless Lexa re-assigns me with the archers.

But nothing's happening. The sun's set behind the mountains a while ago now, and it's about to be pitch dark soon, and my nerves are on edge, and nothing's happening. What if something went wrong? What if Wick and Raven are in trouble? Or worse, dead? 

If they're dead, then so are we.

''Come on, Raven,'' I say through my teeth, still trying to calm myself. But the longer we wait, the more panicky I get. I feel safe enough behind the line of warriors with metal shields, but that's beside the point. Clarke and Lexa - they're standing at the van apparently fearlessly unprotected, but I know everyone's ready to swoop in and shield them if it comes to it. Lexa looks calm and settled, Clarke looks ready to jump out of her skin.

Loud, heavy gunfire sounds through the air, and every single soul in the army seems to jump at it. My heart wants to flee my chest, my skin crawls - it's not supposed to go like this. Before I can think, I run up to Clarke and Lexa, but Lincoln's there before me.

''Clarke!'' I call, but she looks back at me terrified.

''It's coming from the dam,'' Lincoln informs, like we haven't figured it out.

''They know we're going for the power,'' Clarke nods.

''They know we're going for the door,'' adds Lexa.

''Rogou trigeda!'' Lincoln shouts orders to his team, ''Ge yo ogud!''

''Raven will get it done,'' Monroe tells us, as though to re-assure us, ''She's one of us.''

And I know it wouldn't be the first time she's done the impossible. She's saved our asses many times over. But I can't help being terrified. This time is different. 

''Maybe they need back-up,'' I suggest, ''We can spare a team to go after them.''

''No, we can't have a battle on that front,'' Clarke shakes her head, ''We're not wasting anyone.''

''You're wasting Raven and Wick!''

Lexa's eyes land on me almost threateningly when I seem to forget myself and raise my voice at Clarke. Clarke, on the other hand, almost ignores it.

Monroe's hand lands on my forearm. ''This is Raven we're talking about.''

''She's not invincible,'' I utter back almost through my teeth, eyes stinging.

''As soon as those lights go off,'' Sgt. Miller tells Clarke, ''You push that button. We'll do the rest.''

Clarke looks at the detonator she's clutching, before she gives a nervous nod.

But we don't have to wait much longer. A loud explosion soon booms through the night, and the lights go off. They've done it.

''They did it,'' I say, almost in disbelief, my voice too weak and quiet. _It's happening._

''She did it!'' Clarke says, with more vigor, as she fumbles with the detonator.

''One minute starting now,'' Sgt. Miller announces.

Clarke looks at the device in her hand, and she looks like it's hard for her to breathe. She offers the device to Lexa and says: ''For those we've lost.'' Lexa puts her hand over Clarke's and adds: ''And those we'll soon find.'' Then, in another breathless moment, they press the button together.

But nothing happens.

''What's going on?!'' I panic.

They keep pressing the button, but still nothing happens. And this is the first time I see Lexa panic.

''What's wrong, why isn't it working?!'' she demands.

''They're jamming us,'' Clarke replies, before she runs out of cover, ''I need to get closer!''

But when she does step out, the shooters finally reveal themselves. We're showered by a rain of bullets coming from the mountain, the fire of it flickering like stars in the night. Lincoln has tackled Clarke to the ground and shields have been put up around them, but there's no way of moving ahead now until the shooters are neutralized. Lexa seems to have ordered just that, because a squad of warriors is dispatched to flank them immediately. The shooting doesn't stop though. Sgt. Miller insists on Clarke letting _him_ get closer and do it manually, but there is no way he can reach it. Then Lexa orders a shield wall.

''Roman style,'' I mumble as I watch it form, ''You have to be kidding me.''

The shield formation moves solidly at first, and I almost think we can do this, that we have a chance. The minute is coming to its end, I know, and if we don't do it now, we have no other way in. But one by one, the shields fall, and the men are being shot down. When I see David Miller lying on the ground, I try not to panic, but my entire being is screaming. We're done, we're doomed.

''We'll find another way in,'' says Lexa.

''There is no other way in!'' Clarke cries, ''You know that!''

''We don't need one,'' Lincoln says, which makes me tear my eyes away from the fallen men. When I look at him, he's looking at me, and when he notches an arrow to his bow, and barely moves his head in a nod, he doesn't have to tell me anything to explain. I follow suit - notch an arrow, light it at a torch, pull it back.

''Ten seconds,'' Clarke announces, as I take a deep breath and aim, ''Five seconds. Four, three, two...''

Lincoln and I release at the same time, and when my arrow leaves the bow I feel an urge to close my eyes for whatever's coming. But there's no need. We've done it.

The lock's blown open.

''It worked!'' Clarke exclaims, sounding like she could weep with happiness. And I can hardly believe my own eyes. It _worked._

''We need to get to that ridge and take out the shooters,'' Lexa commands now, but when Lincoln and I move, she stops us - ''No! You stay with Clarke. When the shooting stops, you get that door open.''

We nod and then she screams something to a squad and they're gone before you can tell. So we stay behind cover and wait.

The shooting goes on for another while, until it no longer does. Lexa is fast and effective - either that or they've killed her and are keeping low to set up an ambush. Right now I don't even know anymore. I don't know what to think.

It's Lincoln that dares step out first, even when Clarke and I call him back in warning.

''Lexa did it,'' he says, and I can feel someone's hand clasp around my forearm. It's Monroe - overwhelmed. I give her a smile, before we move to step out as well.

''What now?'' I ask Clarke. She needs to be fast with orders if the Mountain Men start coming out.

''Clarke, look!'' Monroe points to the ground where our people fell, and sure enough I can see it too - Sgt. Miller struggling to get up off the floor. I'm so happy and grateful, I could cry. I give Monroe my rifle so I can free my hands immediately.

''Make sure he's okay,'' Clarke orders, and a couple of men are already rushing to David's side with me. We get him behind and into safety fast, because Lincoln is already leading his squad as they're getting ready to pull at the door. 

The rest of the army stands ready to Clarke's command. Monroe throws me back the rifle, and we take position next to each other, taking steady breaths. It's now or never.

Two lines of the strongest warriors are pulling at the ropes, and it takes all they have. It takes them longer than it should just to move the door one inch, but I try not to think about it, my eyes on the scope. 

''Night vision,'' I smirk to Monroe. I can see my target in pitch black darkness through this thing.

''I did some dolling up for the occasion,'' she shrugs and I grin. These scopes don't exactly grow on trees, but she made sure we have them. I could kiss her.

And then the door opens a bit wider, and the warriors take up their war cries, and Clarke screams: ''Attack!!!''

''Stop!!!'' someone screams right back. It takes me a moment to realize it's Lexa, and soon enough we can see her coming back through the crowd. Monroe nudges me and points to the direction.

''Chil yo daun! _(Stand down!)_ '' Lexa demands. The warrios quiet down. She finally steps out so we can see her clearly, followed by no other than Emerson. And some sort of alarm goes off in my head immediately, but I ignore it.

''What is this?'' Clarke asks her, and by some instinct I step up right behind her shoulder.

Someone answers it before Lexa can when we hear the shout: ''They're coming out! Look!'' And we all look to the door, and one by one they're coming out indeed, one prisoner after the other, in whatever rags they kept them, and I forget about everything else when my heart leaps in hope, and I expect to see Jasper any moment now, and Nathan, and Monty, and Harper, and Bellamy right behind them.

But they never do. All I see is Grounders - a lot of them - but once they're all out, no one else is coming.

And it's hard to breathe now.

''They're surrendering-,'' Clarke says, but I think she just refuses to believe what's actually going on.

''Not quite,'' says Emerson, before he looks to Lexa. And she doesn't even need to explain it further.

''What did you do?'' Clarke asks her.

''What you would have done. Saved my people.''

''Where are _my_ people?''

''I'm sorry, Clarke. They weren't part of the deal.''

''You made the right choice, Commander,'' Emerson tells her, and I want to kill them both, but somehow - I can't move.

''What is this?'' Lincoln steps up.

''Your Commander's made a deal,'' replies Clarke coldly.

''What about prisoners from the Ark? They'll all be killed!'' he exclaims. 

''But you don't care about that, do you?'' Clarke adds.

''I do care, Clarke, but I made this choice with my head and not my heart. The duty to protect my people comes first.''

''Please don't do this,'' Clarke resorts to begging now, but Lexa looks as hard as stone.

''I'm sorry, Clarke.''

''Commander, not like this,'' Lincoln practically begs himself, ''Let us fight.''

''No. The deal is done,'' she says as the horns sound the retreat, ''You, too. All our people withdraw. Those are the terms.''

I look around to find the army dispersing. And I'm still frozen; I can still hardly move; I can still hardly breathe. _This can't be happening._

''They'll be slaughtered,'' Lincoln argues again, ''Let me help them.''

''Sis em op _(Take him)_ ,'' Lexa only says, to which a few warriors move to restrain him. Lincoln manages to defeat some of them, but in the end he succumbs and they take him away. And all we can do is stand and watch.

And it's only now that something clicks and I no longer can stand and watch, because in another moment I'm all up in Lexa's face, my rifle almost pressing against her. I didn't think before I did this, it was the most instinctive thing in the world - like I have no control of myself and I'm working on some sort of auto-pilot. But it's a mistake, because in less than a split-second, someone's disarmed me in three twists and has me in a headlock with a knife to my throat. I catch the way Clarke's eyes seem to beg, and it's like this is as far as Lexa's mercy can go, because she only nudges her head, and the knife leaves my throat. Instead I'm roughly dragged away from them, where I can no longer be a threat. All around us, the army is dispersing, the horns sounding still. And when I'm thrown to the ground with the force of a mighty warrior, I turn around and try to stand up only to meet a familiar face. Ryder towers over me, ready to draw weapon if need be but clearly under no order to kill me.

''I saved your life,'' I growl, accusing him, but I want to spit in his face instead.

''And now I'm saving yours,'' he says calmly, ''You better go, Sky girl. Because the next time you threaten the Commander, she won't be so merciful.''

And then he walks away. Just like that. And I want to run and latch onto his back and claw his throat out, but I know it's not him my fight should be with.

I'm alone now, nothing but me and my weakness in the dead of night, the moonless darkness and the shadow of the mountain pressing me against the ground. Bellamy and all of my friends are in there, if not slaughtered then ready to be. 

And I'm not going anywhere without them.


	59. Chapter 59

The night is unusually quiet. I think it's never been this quiet before. The sound of my own breathing and some distant owl is odd after so much noise. But the army is gone; you can't even hear them in the distance anymore. It's just my breathing and that damn owl, and if it wasn't for that I'd think this is probably what death sounds like.

It's almost hard to breathe, but I push myself - I'm tempted to literally just slap myself into focus. I fumble with the leather and fabric to check on my wound, only to find the stitches thankfully intact. That's good. I'm gonna need it now that I'm about to try something stupid.

Not that I know what exactly I'm going to try, but I have to do _something_. I know damn well pulling at the main door isn't going to do shit, but I try it anyway, just in passing, just to scream and kick at it once, if nothing else. My own shrieks echo in the night, and my wound pulsates when I pull too hard. So I stop.

_The mines._

_Octavia._

There is no way Octavia would have walked away, no matter the orders. This is her brother, and she's a Blake before she's anything else. And if she's stayed, that means she's most probably alone in the tunnels, which sends another bolt of fear straight into my heart, and I take off running.

I don't see very well when I enter the trees, so I have to slow down. I also have to be alert in case there's some Mountain Men dispatched in the area. I don't want to trip up and break myself just as much as I don't want to get shot - or worse, taken. I seem to forget it's my blood too they'd likely want to suck out.

It proves to be good thinking, because I can soon see someone's silhouette in the distance, seemingly making their way ahead just as I am. I rush a bit closer and pull out the bow and notch an arrow and before they can put more distance between us, I send a warning shot. The arrow lands right next to the person's foot. It makes them jump, and I could swear I heard a gasp. ''Don't move!'' I growl because I can see they're ready to flee. But instead of flight or counter-attack, the person turns around, and it's only now that I see light, long hair. And a familiar voice greets me.

''Tasha?''

''Clarke?''

''You stayed.''

''Of course I stayed,'' I sling the bow back and rush toward her, ''I hope that's not surprise 'cause I'd be insulted.''

She keeps up with me now, but I'm so angry I do my best to walk at least a foot in front of her. 

''Bellamy doesn't know about the treason, and he no longer has an army on the inside to help him, but you can bet your ass he's still going to try and get our friends to the intake door,'' I stride on, ''It's our best bet.''

''I'm sorry,'' she only says - earnestly * but I don't stop a second to care.

''Doesn't matter, Clarke. Now let's hurry the hell up.''

She doesn't say anything else, and neither do I, as we make our way through the woods and to the tunnel where I last saw Bellamy. And I know it has been the easy part so far, and as much as there's animosity between me and Clarke at the moment, right now that we've stepped into these tunnels we have to be as close and trusting a team as there ever was. 

Clarke takes the lead, knowing the route, and I take the rear, arrow ready. Indra's team must have dealt with the Reapers because none come - there seems to be no one but us in these oppressively silent tunnels. The darkness is even worse, but once our eyes adjust, it's doable. I silently hope I'm not wrong about the Reapers though, because I certainly don't have a tone generator, and I don't think Clarke does either with the amount that Raven made, and so I don't even ask.

We seem to walk forever, but when Clarke recognizes the last of the tunnels, she starts running eagerly, and I follow behind, and we soon see light coming from where the intake door should be. When we take the last turn, we're met by a sword, but Octavia sheathes it the moment she sees it's us.

"Octavia. You stayed."

"Screw you. Of course I stayed,'' O echoes my words, ''I know where my loyalties lie."

"We have to get in there,'' Clarke moves to the disposal tunnel, but Octavia stops her.

"If that was possible, do you think I'd still be out here? Why did Lexa sound the retreat?"

''Oh, my God,'' I clasp my mouth. I don't know if I want to cry or puke or both. Fox's body lies in the metal container, disposed of like she's nothing but trash. Her pretty face still somehow looks horrified, even in death, and she looks even skinnier than when I last saw her. She's as pale as death can make you, but I know it's the way they bled her that's made her body look like this. I want to cry. I should cry, I need to make myself. The thought runs through my head, but all I can do is stand horrified.

"She made a deal with Mount Weather, freed the Grounders, and now we're on our own,'' I can hear Clarke reply to Octavia, neither paying any attention to me. I can't tear my eyes away from poor Fox. This girl was the most innocent human being I've ever met.

But then a booming sound makes me look away.

"Stop!'' Octavia grabs Clarke as she bangs on the intake door, ''They'll know we're here!''

Clarke steps back, defeated.

''What about Lincoln?'' Octavia asks, ''There's no way he would have gone along with a plan like this."

"He didn't,'' I say, ''They made him, took him away.''

Clarke takes out the gun, aims at the door, but Octavia stops her before she can shoot, and before I can move.

"What's wrong with you?!"

''Want them to speed up the process?!'' I shriek, ''Want them to take you so you can keep Fox company?!?''

"I am getting through that door!"

"And that's your plan?'' Octavia asks her, ''Bellamy's counting on you. Everyone's _always_ counting on _you_!"

"Well, what do you want from me?!" Clarke cries.

"You trusted Lexa! You let a bomb drop on Tondc! You let all those people-"

"I am doing the best I can!"

"Yeah? Well, it's not good enough!!"

''Guys,'' I only say, but it's enough to make them stop. The door keypad beeps, and I notch an arrow just in case, just as Clarke aims the gun at the door again. The door opens slowly. And Bellamy emerges, almost shrouded by the lights coming from inside the mountain, looking like an angel, like a dream, and I can't believe I'm seeing him again. 

Octavia's hugging him, but I can't move.

When Bellamy lets go of her and gives a nod to Clarke, I realize I've dropped my bow to the ground as we rush toward each other in a couple of quick, long strides and I literally crash into him, my arms around his neck, his arms around me, his face in my neck, and I can't believe it's real, and I realize I'm crying. There are tears in my eyes and a couple have escaped me, and I can't get enough of his closeness, the feel of his arms, the scent of him. When I pull back I literally have to just grab his face and look at him, like I have to make sure it's really him. But when his eyes meet mine in a split of a second we can yet spare, he slams his mouth against mine.

''Thank God, you asshole!'' I let out a laugh when I pull back, wiping my face with the back of my hand before punching him lightly. Octavia grins at the exchange, and it's only then that I realize Monty and Jasper are standing _right there._

''Oh my God,'' I say before I throw myself at them both - it feels like I literaly haven't seen them in years, especially Monty. Jasper gives a smile as I ruffle his hair, before he introduces his new friend.

Maya steps out in a hazmat suit, looking positively scared of Octavia and me. I find it odd before I realize why, though I don't have as much warpaint on.

''It's all right,'' Jasper tells her, ''They're with us.''

"Where's your army?" Bellamy asks Clarke.

"Gone just like yours. Say you have a plan."

"Not really. We need to talk to Dante. Maya says he's in quarantine."

Monty and Jasper both give Clarke a hug, and for a moment it feels like the good old days back at the Drop-Ship camp. But we've come a long way from that, too long, and nothing will ever be the same after this.

Maya's suit starts beeping, which throws everyone in panic mode, especially Jasper. Something's wrong with the damn tank, and it's her last too.

"Hey, we'll find you another one,'' Clarke assures her.

"All the supplemental oxygen is on level five,'' Maya replies in defeat.

"Then we have to get you to level five,'' says Jasper.

"Five isn't safe for any of us,'' Maya shakes her head.

"We'll take the trash chute again,'' he insists, ''It will work."

"To get in, maybe,'' says Bellamy, ''Maya's right. Every soldier in this mountain is there. We'll never make it out."

"We can do this,'' insists Jasper, eyes wide, ''We'll split up!"

''I'm in,'' I say, giving Jasper a smile. I feel like it's the least I owe to this girl. Jasper smiles back at me nervously, terrified and appreciative.

"Okay,'' Octavia says, ''You guys go for Dante. We'll help Maya."

I kiss Bellamy one more time before we split up, somehow knowing he'll be fine - he's survived days and days in this mountain. 

And as for me, I won't let anything stop me.

*

We manage to make it to Level 5 just as Maya runs out of all her oxygen. When the door closes she disposes of the hazmat suit, and takes one big hungry breath.

"She's safe. Could we go now?" Octavia asks.

"I'll be okay,'' nods Maya.

"Look, I'm not leaving you,'' Jasper tells her.

"Jasper-,'' Octavia calls, but he won't hear it.

"She's alive, but she's not safe."

"Cage knows I helped you guys,'' Maya says, ''He's on level five."

"So what do we do?" asks O.

"We kill Cage,'' replies Jasper.

''Fuck that son of a bitch,'' I say, "I'm in."

*

"This is taking too long. I mean, what if she got caught?"

"We'd have heard something."

"Then what if she couldn't find Sergeant Lee or- I don't know- The protocol changed? What if he got caught?"

"Jasper, a warrior doesn't worry about what he can't control,'' Octavia tells him, but she's the only warrior among us, because I can't exactly sit calm either. But then the door opens and I stop pacing - Maya emerges with Sgt. Lee in tow.

"Come on, in here. "

"Oh, thank god,'' Jasper throws his arms around her. "Anyone see you?"

But when Sgt. Lee steps up to see us, he raises his gun at Octavia before I can blink, and in another moment I draw back an arrow without thinking consequences. Yet no one moves. We're at a stand-off.

"Lee, put down the gun,'' Maya demands.

"You didn't say there were outsiders with you,'' Lee counters.

"They're not outsiders,'' Jasper argues.

''Yes, they are."

"They're with us,'' says Maya, ''Cage is in the dorms. They brought another group in from the Ark, more marrow. They're not even trying to fix the dam."

''More prisoners?!'' I ask, suddenly panicked, because I can't not worry about dad, can't not think he might be among them, and every alarm in my being goes off, blaring.

''Yeah,'' Maya confirms, her voice meek and apologetic, like the guilt is hers.

Lee lowers his gun and I follow with my bow. He does it very reluctantly though, so I keep my hands nimble and ready, just in case.

"How many soldiers are with Cage?" Jasper asks him.

"Uh, six. Why?"

"Just get me close. They'll be happy you found another eight doses. I need a-''

Octavia hands him a knife before he can ask for it. "Aim for the throat. Slash, don't stab. Make it deep."

"I hope you know what you're doing,'' Lee tells him once he puts handcuffs around his wrists.

"Me too,'' says Jasper.

"You got this,'' Maya tells him.

"Yeah,'' Jasper says, and before they kiss, we step away to give them some privacy. My heart hurts at the thought of what might happen next. And I suddenly get this very, very bad idea that I know I can no longer walk away from. So when Lee's about to walk Jasper away, I stop him.

''Wait!''

They both turn around. I take off my weapons and give them to Octavia, telling her not to lose my bow. ''Sentimental value,'' I say. She looks at me in half wonder half fear, before she nods.

I'm left with nothing but the knives in my boots.

I extend my wrists to Lee.

''You'll have to take me too.''


	60. Chapter 60

The walk to the dorm they now use as the operation room isn't very long, but it feels like the longest I've ever taken. I don't question my decision, though I'm terrified. There is a million ways in which things could go wrong, and I'm absolutely horrified at the thought of what I might find and see once we're taken inside, but Jasper could use back-up, and I could try and do something in the commotion should he fail. I couldn't have let him try and do this on his own, but that's not quite the reason I'm doing this walk of horror. I need to see. Should all go to fucking hell, I need to see them, all of them, their faces, alive, and I need to see if my father is among them.

My teeth are completely numb by the time we reach the door, from all the oxygen I'm deeply inhaling trying to steady myself. My heart thumps like mad. I don't know about Jasper, but I am not ready for what's behind that door. Maybe he is. He's probably seen his fair share of Mount Weather horrors. The image of Fox's corpse flashes before my eyes and suddenly I want to be anywhere else but here but at the same time I wouldn't run in a million years. Some things have to be done, no matter how terrifying.

And I wasn't ready, I know it the moment I step in. I see familiar faces, but it's like I hardly recognize any of them, distorted in fear and pain. My eyes scan the faces of those chained to the walls, but they don't stop on anyone. Nathan's eyes widen when he recognizes me, but I can't react to anyone. It's like I've zoomed out of this reality. Lee takes us to our places on the wall, to chain us, but we won't really be chained, just like my handcuffs will click open the moment I want them to, but I'm still in a daze. I can see Cage across the room, looking over the process, and it's only now that I realize Abby's on the table. Someone's taken a whole lot of blood out of her with a fresh syringe, and something hitches in my throat. She looks barely conscious, barely holding on, but then my eyes travel farther, and I see bodies lying on the floor, and the first person I see is Raven, quite obviously in agony, and not far from her - my father.

My first instinct is to rush to him and cut down anyone standing in my path, but I remember the plan the moment I make my first tug. I can't be reckless. Being reckless now would mean all of our deaths. And we've come so far, so damn far. We're close now. We stand a chance. I look to them again, to make sure they're alive. Raven is in too much pain to mistake it for anything else, but my dad isn't moving, still as a statue in that corner on the floor. And I'm terrified, and I want to cry out, scream, start cutting throats, but I can't do anything. I look at Cage. He's still in his place, observing, uncaring, all his defences down, safe and invincible as he surely feels. Then I turn to Jasper.

His face is barely an inch away from mine. I can feel his breath on my face, feel the fear in his bones radiate. The tears stinging the corners of his eyes must reflect my own. His breath is shaky, but he himself does not tremble. He's managed to turn his body into stone, made his determination dwarf his fear. And it's like all our lives, both his and mine, have led up to this point. It's like we were meant to be here, joined by one fate, both having been through so much, having lost so much, and still having so much to lose. In this moment, I don't think our hearts beat separately as two - he is me and I am him and whatever comes of this, we will share. Together. I don't have to tell him any of it, I know he knows. And I know he knows what it means when I give him a small but firm nod. His handcuffs unclasp, and he turns around. Harper stares at him wide-eyed, then at me, even more terrified than before.

Jasper takes one step ahead, and takes out Octavia's knife. I can see the blade glisten - Octavia always keeps her blades perilously and flawlessly sharp - but it doesn't stick out as the edges of his sleeves fall low. He might just do this, I think as I stand ready, adjusting my wrists more comfortably. Jasper takes another step ahead, but this time it doesn't go unnoticed.

''Restrain him!'' Cage orders when he turns around and sees Jasper free, and then everything happens so fast. The guards turn on him, a dozen of them, all armed with rifles clicking ready, all aiming at him, and I know now is the time to act if there ever will be a time, but I'm rightfully terrified of doing anyhing sudden, making the slightest move that could set off just one of the guards and send Jasper to his death. Or me. Or both of us.

Jasper takes another step like a fool, or the bravest person I've ever known, and this time the guards raise their rifles just a bit to show they actually mean business, but Jasper doesn't care. Carefully and slowly, my wrists go free and I manage to take out one of my knives from my left boot and slip it into the sleeve of my jacket without anyone noticing. When I straighten however, two gun barrels turn toward me. Now they know Jasper and I are planning something, and it's now or never. Cage is still a way off behind the guards, but he's still a clear un-moving target if I could just make that throw. Throwing knives is a tricky business, and every blade is a world of its own, and just when you think you've mastered it, the next blade you take hold of might prove you wrong. So I don't like this idea, because I never was too good at knife-throwing in the first place, and this time everything is at stake, my life included. If I don't make that throw, I'm dead. I might end up dead even if I do. But I have to do it, and that settles it.

All of these thoughts pass through my mind in less than a second, but time's at a stand-still. And the last thought that crosses my mind before the knife slips from my sleeve into my hand is - ''Bellamy would have made that throw blindfolded.'' And suddenly I want to make him proud, and I'm ready.

But then the alarms start blaring.

They take me by surprise, wake me from my daze. I look around to meet confused faces, all of us, friend and foe, but it only takes a moment for all of us to realize. Redness turns to blisters, blisters turn to wounds, and wounds turn to scorched flesh so irreparable that the men are dead even before they are. The radiation is melting them down before our very eyes, and it's so disgusting and terrifying but also so morbidly mesmerizing that none of us can look away.

Cage isn't dying though, he's obviously had his treatment. But he will die soon enough, I'm to make sure of that. He storms out before I can realize though, and then Jasper's out the door, and the alarms are still blaring, and it's like for the first time since I came here I fully realize where I'm standing. Because it's just me now, hands free, standing in a room full of tortured souls. Friends and family. And it's suddenly too much, and I need to find my breath and find my feet. The first deep inhale almost hurts my lungs, and then I make myself move, because Harper is crying, and Kane is trying to tear himself free, but dad is my first priority, and Raven next to him. I almost run across the room, slide down onto my knees, almost throw myself over them. Pressing against my father's neck, I manage to find his pulse, but it's so weak and so far apart it's like his heart is barely beating. Still, it's relief enough for me to be able to move some more. Raven is half-conscious and still in terrible pain so all I can do is put her up on a spare bed until I've somehow freed everyone else.

Octavia scares the living crap out of me when she storms in, and she comes at the right moment. ''Get the keys from the guards!'' Kane begs, and the next thing I know we're both digging for keys on two irradiated corpses. Octavia hurriedly starts unlocking on one wall, I on the other. My hands don't feel quite like my own, almost numb, and two times I almost drop my keys before I can unlock the handcuffs, but I manage to do it, one after the other, kids I haven't seen since the Drop-Ship, kids I know and kids I don't, kids who've become my friends, then my family, Monroe and Sean right next to each other, and Wick who rushes to Raven the moment I free him, and Nathan whose arms immediately go around me with such force and fervor that I start crying. He pulls back quickly so I can proceed, and I swallow everything back, but tears won't stop streaming down my face. When everyone is free, I go back to where my dad is lying unconscious, and now I can't stop weeping, crying so hard it's almost obstructing my breathing. I'm so sorry. I'm so so so so sorry. I can't think about anything else, and maybe I say it out loud as I cry holding his hand. People are around me, holding each other, helping each other, but all I can do is weep.

When I feel someone hug me from behind it makes me cry even harder, knowing it's Bellamy. He kisses my temple and says: ''Let's get him home.'' And I'm not even sure we have a home, that it can be a home after so much has happened, and most of all I'm not sure dad will make it back home. But then Nathan and David Miller bring a makeshift gurney and offer to help me get him back and I am torn apart because I am so irreparably broken even this sudden surge of affection hurts. I love my people. That is all I can think now - I love each and every soul in this room, even those I don't truly know well. I am now forever united with them, united by pain and loss and catastrophe so terrible it can do nothing but bind its victims tight together. But how do I put _myself_ back together?

Some of our people meet us halfway on our way back home. Dwyght is among them, getting a hold of dad's gurney immediately, the bear of a man. He barely says a word to us all, and I think it's for fear of breaking into tears. Everyone helps with the injured; Sinclair and Jackson are the first faces I see after Dwyght, and Jonas and the other guards swoop right in to relieve us of some of our burdens. Wick won't give up Raven though; he's intent on carrying her back himself down to the very last step into the medical ward.

I can hardly think of anything anymore. When there's so much to think about, the brain shuts down to a blank. It's kind of a blank fog in my mind right now. I know my dad isn't in the best state, and Dwyght and Sgt. Miller are carrying him in front of us, and I can only pray now. I know Raven's going to feel this more than most of us, and I can't even imagine what the aftermath will be for her. I can see Harper, and Sean and Monroe, and Jasper walking ahead of them, and I know Jasper's going to feel all of this worse than any of us, for a good long while. It's terrifying to think about, but he's not okay, and he won't be okay, and I remember what happened to Finn when he thought he'd lost Clarke and I shudder. We won't let that happen to Jasper. I am determined to not see it happen again.

Nathan must have felt that shudder, because his hand around mine tightens, and his fingers interlace with mine instead of clasp, and we only share a look, and no words are needed. My head rests against his shoulder as we walk, and his arm goes around me so his hand can rest on my bicep. He rubs me there comfortingly, before the hand rests again. David Miller turns around and gives us a brief smile. We smile back, and for a moment I feel better. Like everything hasn't quite gone to shit.

Bellamy is walking right behind me, Clarke and Monty by his side, keeping to us, but also keeping apart. I know they shared something terrible back there, something that especially binds them together forever now. It has to be a hundred times stronger than what Jasper and I shared in that moment in the dorm, and they need their privacy with it before we all step back through the gates of Camp Jaha and have to face it.

I know I'm going to have to be there for Bellamy in the days to come - what he's done since the moment I said goodbye to him in front of those tunnels will stay with him forever. I feel a kind of duty to be there for Jasper, too. But in all thruthfulness even now I have no idea how I'm going to be there for myself. Because even as we're walking back home, I'm dreading the arrival.

When we do arrive, the Camp looks the same, but it also doesn't. It certainly _feels_ different. Maybe because we were all different people the last time we were all here. Most of those who were in Mount Weather never even got to see the Ark on the ground in all it's reparable glory. So it must feel even less like home to them than it does to me.

I help get all of the severely injured into the medical, and I'm thankful when Jackson gets to my dad first, seeing as he's among those in critical state. When I walk back out, too exhausted to think, Bellamy greets me and tells me Clarke's gone. She's gone and she probably has no plans of coming back and he's not sure even she knows where she's going. He doesn't explain it too much; he seems too broken himself. So I don't ask him anything more about it either. I'll have plenty of time to have an opinion and have feelings about it, so instead I just snake my arms around his neck and relax into him as his arms go around my waist.

It's comforting now, but soon everything's going to start kicking in, and we're all going to do our best to keep everything together and keep living as best as we can, but I don't know how. Clarke's gone, and she's left it all on Bellamy's shoulders to bear, and I should be there for him, it's going to be hard for him in the days to come, but I know that the moment I pull back from this hug, he and I won't be the same either. How could we? Every time he looks at me, he'll be reminded of what he's had to do, and every time I see him I will want to protect him from what haunts him and I won't be able to, knowing I'm a part of it, knowing he's a part of what haunts me. Because just like we're bound by what we shared in that Mountain, we're forever changed by it too. How can I ever look at him again and not remember the Mount Weather guard uniform? Maya in her hazmat suit, walking up behind him?

Maybe I'm wrong. But I'm afraid to let go of him.

''I'm going back tomorrow,'' I say when I pull back - he frowns, ''We need to get Fox and Maya, bury them properly.''

''We'll bury them. You have to rest first. We both do.''

I agree so I nod, and start walking back in, and he walks with me.

''We're going to be alright,'' he says.

''I hope so,'' I say honestly, ''But whatever happens from here on out... If this is the end of life as we've known it,'' I pause to sigh, gathering my words, ''Well, then I'm glad I'm with you, Bellamy Blake. Now, here, at the end of things.''

He turns to me then, looks me in the eyes, before he gives me a small smile. His eyes look sad though, and of course they would. His arm goes around my shoulders as he pulls me into him.

''Not the end of things, sharpie. Not quite the end.''

And there it is. A whole age of humankind has ended, or maybe it's begun. We have survived, defied death, stared the four riders of the apocalypse right in the eyes until they galloped away. We've won, but at what cost? It's been months since we've come to the ground, but it feels like decades.

And now we're home again. Or at least, we're back at a place we're yet to turn into home. But how do you go on? _''How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on when in your heart you begin to understand there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend, some hurts that go too deep, that have taken hold.''_ I could laugh at the most appropriate time to remember those lines, the irony of life. And I think of John Murphy, and send a silent prayer into the universe.

Our story isn't over, I know that. _My_ story isn't over. But I hope with all the spirit I have left that the remainder is peaceful. Because I honestly don't know if we'd be able to endure anything more any time soon. We need time to heal, to put ourselves back together. Because I know _I'm_ shattered. And I cannot always be torn, I will have to be one and whole to be able to live in the times to come. Because, despite all, I haven't died - we haven't died - and that has to mean something, there has to be a reason.

There must be something for us down at the end of the road.

 

* * *

END OF BOOK 1

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on a sequel that will be set in the three months before season 3 starts and also during season 3. It's going to be much more independent of the show. And I'm really just doing this to practice my writing while having fun, so thank you to all my (silent) readers for following this story through. Stay tuned! x


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